Only in My Nightmares
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: Newkirk gets picked up by an SS patrol, and spends three days in their custody. When he returns to camp; he can't cope with what happened, and his memory shuts it out. But memories don't stay buried for long.
1. Prologue

A/N: This story idea has been pestering me for a while now, and I found that I could no longer ignore it. It's a departure for me; it's much darker and more angst-filled than my previous work. But I've been wanting to try my hand at something like this for a while now. And yes, Newkirk is the main focus of the story. (I can't help it, I just like his character!) And I haven't forgotten my other story on here that isn't quite finished, _On Thin_ _Ice_. I will be updating that one soon.

WARNING: There will be some graphic images alluded to in this story, although there will be few, if any, detailed descriptions of actual torture.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters.

* * *

"Kinch! Where's the Colonel?" Carter called out breathlessly as he ran into the main tunnel, followed closely by LeBeau. They were coming from the direction of the emergency entrance, on their way back from sabotaging a munitions dump that London had requested them to dispose of.

Kinch looked up from his seat in front of the radio. "The Colonel's up in his quarters," he said, instantly concerned at Carter's tone…something must have gone wrong. As he watched the two men come closer, he realized what it was. "Where's Newkirk?"

Carter and LeBeau looked at each other. "That's why we need to see the Colonel right away!" Carter exclaimed. "We were coming back from blowing up that munitions dump, and…"

Just then the false bottom bunk opened, and Hogan climbed down to the tunnel below. Spotting Carter and LeBeau he asked, "Did you guys take care of that dump?"

"Oui, mon Colonel," LeBeau replied, "But there was a problem on the way back. An SS Patrol. Carter and I managed to hide, but Newkirk…"

Hogan immediately became aware that the English Corporal was not there. "What happened?" Suddenly he felt a terrible lump take up residence in the pit of his stomach.

"The SS patrol got him, Colonel," Carter told him, agonizing over every word. "They took him away. We couldn't do anything, or they would have gotten us, too."

Hogan forced himself to remain calm. "Okay, tell me what happened, and I'll figure out what to do."

* * * * *

"Carter, 'ave you got that bleedin' dynamite set yet?" Newkirk called out, feeling more anxious than usual this night, wanting to get going as quickly as possible. He'd had a bad feeling ever since they left camp, and he knew he wouldn't relax until they got back safely.

"One more minute…" Carter responded, while concentrating on the task at hand. "There!" He exclaimed, standing up and looking at Newkirk with a grin; obviously pleased with himself.

"Well, don't just stand there, Andrew, let's get out of 'ere!" Newkirk was thoroughly exasperated by now.

"Where's LeBeau?" Carter suddenly started looking around for the other member of their team.

"He's watchin' the road for Krauts," Newkirk informed him impatiently, "Which is what we're goin' to be dealin' with, if we don't get out of 'ere now!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Carter was rather surprised at Newkirk; his friend seemed more on edge tonight than usual.

The two men walked quietly toward the road, spotting LeBeau once they got close. The Frenchman gave them the all-clear; he hadn't heard anything since he'd taken his position as lookout. The three of them then took off into the woods, and climbed up an embankment where they paused, turning around to watch their handiwork.

They weren't disappointed. A few moments later, the munitions dump exploded in a spectacular ball of fire. A cloud of flames reached high into the darkness, briefly illuminating the entire area. As it sunk back down, the brightness faded, and soon there was just a large burning pile of unrecognizable debris remaining.

The men smiled at each other; another job well done. Then, at Newkirk's insistence, they all started to head back to camp, when suddenly there was a rustling directly behind them, and a voice shouted, "Halt!" followed by the sound of a gunshot reverberating through the night, like a clap of thunder.

Carter and LeBeau took off, Newkirk bringing up the rear. As they ran, they could hear the sound of footsteps pounding through the forest, in hot pursuit. They were getting close to the emergency entrance, when Newkirk tripped over an unusually large tree root sticking out of the ground, and fell head-long onto the forest floor. Carter and LeBeau, who hadn't noticed right away, kept running. But when they heard more shouts coming from behind them, shouts of discovery, they took cover and turned to see what the Germans were doing.

They were instantly horrified to see Newkirk on the ground, and an SS patrol surrounding him, ordering him to get to his feet. The Englander complied, getting up and quickly brushing himself off before one of the German soldiers grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the road. They saw a truck pull up, and Newkirk being shoved unceremoniously into the back, and then the rest of the patrol piled in, and the truck took off.

Carter and LeBeau looked at each other for a moment, as if wishing they could come up with some way to go after them and spring Newkirk from the clutches of the SS. But they both knew that there was nothing they could do by themselves; they had to get back to camp and tell the Colonel what happened as quickly as possible. They got up and made their way to the tree stump, climbing down once the searchlight had passed by, and headed to the main tunnel with their bad news.

* * * * *

"Well, at least you fellas went out in uniform," Hogan said when Carter and LeBeau had finished filling him in. "And if the SS picked him up, hopefully they'll think he's a downed flyer, or just a prisoner trying to escape."

"But, Colonel," LeBeau asked worriedly, "What if they think he had something to do with the munitions dump exploding?"

Hogan started to pace, thinking furiously. "All the more reason we need to get him away from the SS as soon as possible. Kinch," he said, turning to his radioman, "Contact the Underground. See if they can find out where that SS patrol took Newkirk. I'm going to go tell Klink we have a man missing. Maybe I can get him to make a few calls and find out where Newkirk is."

Hogan headed up to the barracks, and then out across the compound, making a beeline for Klink's quarters; mindful of the searchlights. He wasn't sure if the Kommandant would still be awake; it was 11:20 p.m., and the man had usually retired by that time. But as he neared the building, he saw light illuminating the closed curtain from behind, and found himself more relieved than he thought he'd be. It was always harder to get Klink to cooperate when he had to rouse him out of bed.

As he reached the door to Klink's quarters he paused, quickly going over in his mind what he was going to say. He'd become very adept at manipulating the German Colonel, but he still had to choose the right approach, which had to be flexible, depending on what frame of mind Klink was in.

Feeling ready, he knocked twice on the door and, without waiting for a reply, opened it and stepped inside. Klink, who had obviously been preparing for bed, judging by the nightclothes he was donning, looked up, startled. He was seated on his couch, reading a magazine, which he quickly rolled up and tried to stuff unsuccessfully in between the cushions.

"Hogan!" Klink exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you burst into my quarters at this hour!"

It was the reaction that Hogan had been anticipating. He couldn't help smiling inwardly to himself at how predictable Klink had become to him. His amusement was short-lived; however, as the purpose of his visit was his primary concern.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I thought you'd want to know that there's a prisoner missing, but I can see you're getting ready for bed. I can come back tomorrow." Hogan turned to leave, already knowing what Klink would say next.

"What? There's a prisoner missing? Why wasn't I informed? I'll have Schultz sound the alarm immediately!"

"Won't do any good, Kommandant," Hogan informed him, "He left hours ago…I'm sure he's long gone by now."

Klink's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If he's been gone for hours, Hogan, why are you telling me now?"

"I'm worried about him, sir. It was Corporal Newkirk; he did it on a whim, certainly without my permission, and he's not a very careful man, you see. And, what with all the German patrols out there, I'm afraid he'll be recaptured, if he hasn't been already. I just don't want him getting hurt."

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it, Hogan?"

"Couldn't you make some calls, sir? Ask around, see if anyone's found him? Like the Gestapo," Hogan leaned in slightly, "Or the SS?"

"At this hour?" Klink looked at Hogan like he had a screw loose. "Hogan, the only thing I can do right now is send out the guards and have them conduct a search. I'll have Schultz sound the alarm, and release the dogs. If your man is not found by morning, then I'll make some calls."

"But, Colonel…"

"No, Hogan, that's final. Now, I suggest you go back to your barracks before I have you thrown in the cooler!"

"Yes, sir." Hogan responded. Defeated, he turned and left Klink's quarters.

As he walked toward the barracks, Hogan sighed in frustration. He'd lost this round, but he wasn't going to give up. He'd just have to wait until morning for Klink's help in locating Newkirk. In the meantime, maybe Kinch had received word from the Underground, and with that thought, he subconsciously quickened his pace.

* * * * *

The next morning found four very tired men standing outside for roll call. None of them had slept a wink. Hogan had taken up pacing in his quarters, Carter and LeBeau had lain awake in their cots, feeling guilty for leaving their friend at the mercy of the SS, and Kinch had spent the night monitoring the radio, receiving periodic updates from the Underground; always with the same message…they still hadn't found out where Newkirk had been taken.

Klink emerged from his office, and walked to the line of men. Schultz reported all present, except for Newkirk, of course, and before Klink's shout of, "Dismissed!" had finished echoing throughout the compound, Hogan had sidled up to him, urging him to make some calls to try to discover Newkirk's whereabouts. Klink acquiesced, if for no other reason than to get Hogan to stop pestering him. But every call led to a dead-end; even the main headquarters of the SS had no knowledge of an RAF corporal being picked up the night before.

Hogan was growing more and more worried. Before long it was evening, and still no news. He wanted desperately to go look for Newkirk, but he had no idea where to start. Not to mention the woods were crawling with guards. He knew the Underground had a better chance of finding Newkirk, but all their efforts had been fruitless.

As nighttime arrived, Hogan told his remaining crew to get some sleep. At their urging, he promised to do the same. He actually did try to close his eyes a few times, but, at best, all he could manage was a short nap here and there. Finally he gave up and went back to pacing, unaware that he was actually creating a worn path across the wooden floor of his quarters.

The next day was more of the same. Hogan was becoming frantic by now, and it was all Kinch, Carter and LeBeau could do to keep him from taking off on his own to look for Newkirk. It was the waiting, the not-knowing, the inability to take charge and solve the problem that ate at Hogan; not to mention the worry for his English friend that was tearing him up inside; frustrating him beyond measure at his inability to find the corporal, and to protect him.

Another day came and went, and now Newkirk had been missing for three days. Hogan had finally grown tired of badgering Klink, who was getting nowhere, anyway. He suggested that the Kommandant call in General Burkhalter; if anyone could find out what happened to a Luftwaffe prisoner, it would be him. Klink, at his wit's end, agreed, and soon Burkhalter was on his way.

Burkhalter arrived toward evening, looking angry and frustrated. He didn't much care for the Gestapo and the SS thinking they could disregard the authority of the Luftwaffe any time they felt like it. He commandeered Klink's office and, a few phone calls later, had managed to discover that Newkirk was being held at one of their smaller installations that the SS used primarily for interrogating captured Russian flyers. The man in charge of that particular installation, Major Steiger, was apparently required to turn in his reports just once a week, so the main SS Headquarters had only obtained the information that day.

Another call to Major Steiger himself confirmed that he was indeed holding a Corporal Newkirk there, and was in the process of interrogating him. Upon further prodding, Steiger revealed that he hadn't obtained any useful information from him; perhaps if he had more time? Burkhalter informed Steiger that he had no jurisdiction over Luftwaffe prisoners, and the Corporal was to be returned to Stalag 13 at once. Steiger started to explain that it would take some time; his guards were out on patrol, and he couldn't leave the facility, when Burkhalter cut in and told him that two guards would be sent from the Stalag to retrieve Newkirk. Major Steiger acknowledged that that would be fine, although the General couldn't help noticing a distinct note of disappointment in the Major's voice.

* * * * *

Hogan and his remaining men had of course been listening in on the telephone conversation taking place between General Burkhalter and Major Steiger.

"Did you hear that, Colonel?" Carter exclaimed excitedly when the General had finished the call, "Newkirk's okay, and Burkhalter's sending a couple of guards to go get him and bring him back!"

Hogan didn't look as optimistic as his explosives expert. "I think Newkirk's condition remains to be seen, Carter." He then looked at his French corporal. "LeBeau, I want you to check our stock of uniforms; see if we have a German guard's uniform for a private or corporal. Then I want all of you to hand over any chocolate bars you have; chances are they're going to send Schultz, and I'm going with him."


	2. Lasting effects

A/N: I just wanted to thank you all so much for your reviews! I won't normally be able to update as quickly as I did with this chapter; but I will try not to make you wait too long; no more than a week, anyway! :D

* * *

"Hey, Schultz, where are you going?" Hogan called out as he exited the barracks, with what looked to be a bundle of clothes tucked under his arm.

Sergeant Schultz, who was heading toward the motor pool with Langenscheidt, stopped when he heard Hogan call out his name, and turned to look in his direction. "I'm going to pick up Newkirk," he said as Hogan caught up to him. "General Burkhalter found out where he is."

"That's great, Schultz!" Hogan exclaimed, his eyes radiating relief, "Can I come?"

Schultz shook his head. "No, Colonel Hogan, you can't come. Besides, you're supposed to be in the barracks."

"Not even for three candy bars?" Hogan pulled the tantalizing bait out of a corner of the bundle he was carrying, and waved the three bars of chocolate in front of the rotund Sergeant.

Schultz shook his head more vigorously. "Not even for four candy bars!"

"Well then, how about…six?" Hogan reached in and drew out three more.

Schultz eyed the bonanza of chocolate hungrily. "Six candy bars?" He repeated, as if trying to convince himself he wasn't seeing things.

Hogan knew he almost had him. "And LeBeau is making some strudel just for you, and you can have all you want when we get back. C'mon, what do you say, Schultz?"

Schultz looked at him, and then at the candy bars, and heaved a sigh. "All right, Colonel Hogan, but if we get caught…"

"We won't get caught, I promise. See? I even brought my own uniform." He reached up and patted the bundle underneath his arm, smiling confidently at Schultz.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz whined, but he knew it was no use. Turning to the Corporal next to him, he said, "Langenscheidt, go back to your quarters and pretend you're not here. And don't tell anybody about this, understand?"

"Oh, absolutely, Sergeant!" Langenscheidt answered. He knew something of what went on in regards to Hogan and his men. But he, like Schultz, preferred to look the other way, as long as he didn't get into trouble.

"Good. Let's go, Schultz." Hogan grabbed the Sergeant's arm and started to pull him in the direction of the motor pool. When they got there, Schultz commandeered a truck, and after he and Hogan climbed in, they headed for the SS facility where Newkirk was being held.

* * * * * *

Once they got out of Stalag 13, Hogan quickly changed into the guard's uniform that LeBeau had found for him while sifting through their collection of assorted civilian outfits and uniforms that they kept in the tunnel below the barracks. He couldn't help noticing that the rank revealed him as a private, which elicited a snicker from Schultz.

The majority of their trip was made in silence. The closer they got, the more worried Hogan became at what condition he would find Newkirk in. When at last they pulled up to the building, Hogan's stomach was in knots.

They got out of the truck, and entered the building. Schultz went up to the guard just inside the entrance, and showed him the papers signed by General Burkhalter that they were to release Corporal Newkirk into his custody. The guard nodded, noting that everything was in order, and, after picking up a set of keys, led the Sergeant and the private that was with him down a long hall just off the entrance. He turned left and continued on, stopping at the last door at the end of the hall. He put his key in the lock and turned it; swinging the door open slowly. He then motioned to the two guards from Stalag 13 to go in and retrieve their prisoner.

Hogan entered first, letting his eyes become accustomed to the dark cell. The only light was what followed him in from the hallway. As he tried to make out his surroundings, the first thing he noticed was the smell; it was rancid, like decaying meat. Then, as his eyesight adjusted, he could see the floor. It was covered with dirt and straw, and some other things that he didn't think he wanted to know what they were. At last his gaze fell on a lone figure curled up in the corner, and his breath caught in his throat; was that Newkirk?

Hogan crept slowly up to the corporal, who was sitting with his back to the wall, and had his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. He was rocking, almost imperceptibly, and his eyes were wide, staring straight out into the cell, but they were empty; void of emotion. His uniform was filthy, and he looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Hogan crouched down and reached out to touch Newkirk's arm.

"Newkirk?" He said softly as his hand made contact with the corporal.

Suddenly Newkirk's head snapped in Hogan's direction, and his eyes flew wide in terror. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At last his jaw started working, and he began whimpering. "No, please…not again…no…please don't take me in there…no, no!" He shouted the last part, while shaking his head back and forth vigorously. He was pressing himself harder against the wall as if trying to literally attach himself to it; attempting to make it as difficult as possible for someone to remove him from the cell.

Hogan just stared at him for a moment, shocked at what he saw. He had no idea what Newkirk had been through, but he knew it must have been something truly horrifying to cause him to react like this. He also knew that he had to get him out of there, and the sooner they got back to camp, the sooner he could help him.

"Newkirk," Hogan began talking to him in a soothing voice. "It's all right. It's me, Hogan. You remember me, don't you? I'm here to take you home." As he spoke, he grabbed Newkirk's arm gently, and started to pull him forward slowly. Newkirk initially resisted, but as Hogan kept talking to him, his eyes began to focus on Hogan's face, and his brow suddenly furrowed in confusion.

"Colonel?" Newkirk whispered, recognizing Hogan at last. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Newkirk, it's me!" Hogan responded eagerly. "I'm here to take you back to Stalag 13. But you're going to have to help me, here. Do you think you can stand up?"

But Newkirk just stared at him, his eyes filling up with tears. "Colonel…" he whispered again, and then his hand flew up and landed on Hogan's arm, clamping down tightly, like a bird of prey latching on to its dinner.

Hogan felt his own eyes starting to water; he'd never seen Newkirk like this. His heart was breaking for him, wondering what horror he'd faced here. _Aw, Newkirk, what the hell did they do to you? _And then he felt his anger begin to surface, turning quickly to rage; rage at the kind of person who could inflict something so atrocious on another human being as to cause the look of terror and desperation that was emanating from Newkirk's eyes.

But Hogan didn't have time for his rage right now. He pushed it back down, concentrating on his primary concern; getting Newkirk to his feet, and getting him out of there as quickly as possible. He grabbed the corporal's arms and slowly rose up, pulling him to his feet. Once he was standing, Newkirk swayed a little, and Hogan held on to him to steady him. Hogan realized that Newkirk still had a death grip on his arm, and when he looked into his eyes, they had grown empty again. He began to talk to him as he guided him to the entrance of the cell. "It's all right, Newkirk. We're just gonna go for a ride now, and we'll have you back at camp in no time. It's okay, you're safe now. Just keep walking…there you go!"

When they got to the door of the cell, Hogan noticed Schultz standing there, watching with a horrified look on his face. Hogan looked at him and said quietly, "Let's get the hell out of here!" Schultz nodded, he couldn't have agreed more.

They followed the hall back to the main entrance, and exited the building, emerging into the cool, clear night. When they got to the truck, Hogan initially had trouble getting Newkirk in, because the corporal still had his right hand clamped tightly on Hogan's left arm, and wouldn't let go. Finally, with a little help from Schultz, they managed to get Newkirk in first, and Hogan followed, sitting next to the door. Schultz went around to the driver's side and climbed in, and they drove away from there as fast as they could.

On the trip back, Hogan suddenly realized that he was still dressed like a German guard, and thought briefly about changing back to his own uniform, but when he tried to pry Newkirk's hand off of his arm, the corporal looked at him, terrified, and started yelling, "No, no, no, no. no!" So Hogan decided to wait until they got back to the Stalag, hoping no one saw him before he could get back into the barracks.

As they got close to the camp, Schultz, who hadn't said anything since they'd liberated Newkirk from the SS facility, now spoke up. "Colonel Hogan, what do you think happened to Newkirk back there?"

"I don't know, Schultz." Hogan replied, looking over at the Sergeant, and then at Newkirk.

"Do you think he will be okay?" Schultz asked.

"I don't know that, either," Hogan was still staring at Newkirk. "I wish I did." And then suddenly it hit him; what if Newkirk never recovered, what if he never returned to normal, what if he was locked in some sort of private nightmare, and his own brain was holding him prisoner…and what if he was trapped there permanently?

Hogan felt something wet on his face, and reached up to wipe away the tear that was running down his cheek.

* * * * * *

When they got to camp, Schultz pulled the truck up to the barracks, partly to make it easier for Hogan to get Newkirk into the barracks, and partly to give the Colonel a better chance at not being discovered wearing a German uniform. He helped them out of the truck, and as soon as the two men entered the barracks, Schultz took the truck back to the motor pool.

Once Hogan and Newkirk were inside the barracks, the men started to greet them enthusiastically, but the excitement was cut off abruptly when they saw Newkirk's condition. As Hogan guided the English corporal to his quarters, he told Carter to go get Wilson, and asked LeBeau if he could whip up some broth and tea. He then took Newkirk into his quarters and sat him down on the bottom bunk, taking a seat next to him, since it now seemed apparent that the Englishman was never going to let go of his arm.

A few minutes later, Wilson appeared, and Hogan filled him in on everything that had happened from the moment they found Newkirk in the cell. Wilson sat down on the other side of Newkirk, and began checking him over. He couldn't find anything physically wrong with him, other than not getting enough to eat for a few days, mild dehydration, and chafe marks on both wrists, indicating he had been chained up at some point. What disturbed him; however, was the vacant look in Newkirk's eyes. "You say he did respond to you, Colonel?" Wilson asked.

"Only twice…the first time was when he recognized me, and the second was when I tried to remove his hand from my arm." Hogan glanced down at his arm, and then back up at Wilson. "He won't let go."

Wilson looked at Hogan, concern evident on his face. "I won't lie to you, Colonel. He's obviously suffered some severe psychological trauma. His mind is having trouble coping, so it's basically shut itself off for now. The fact that he did respond to you is a good thing. I think he sees you as some sort of lifeline; that's why he's holding on to you so tightly." Wilson reached up and briefly rubbed his temple. "I'm no psychiatrist, but I'd say at this point, all we can do is wait and see what happens. See if you can get some fluids in him, and then try to get him to lie down and go to sleep for awhile. Maybe after he falls asleep, you can get your arm back." Wilson flashed him a smile, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

"All right, Sergeant," Hogan tried to smile back, but it was a weak attempt, at best.

"In the meantime, I want you to get some rest as well, Colonel." Wilson told him, "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I'll rest when Newkirk's better."

Wilson shot him a look of annoyance, and was about to argue with him, when he got a good look at Hogan's determination, and realized it wouldn't do any good. He sighed loudly and said, "All right, Colonel. But if you can get Newkirk to go to sleep, you get some sleep yourself, okay?"

"Okay, doc." Hogan's smile was a little warmer this time.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning to see how Newkirk's doing." Wilson said. "If anything happens before then, just send someone to come and get me."

"You can count on it." Hogan responded, and then added, "And thanks, Wilson."

"That's what I'm here for, Colonel." Wilson grinned, and then stood up and left Hogan's quarters, heading back to his own barracks.

LeBeau entered a few minutes later, bringing a cup of tea and a small bowl of broth that he was able to scrounge up from his supplies. He set them on the desk and turned to look at Hogan; a worried expression on his face.

"Is he going to be okay, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

For the second time that evening, all Hogan could answer was, "I don't know."

Hogan then told LeBeau that he could take care of Newkirk, and to go get some rest. LeBeau reluctantly obeyed, and left Hogan's quarters, shutting the door behind him.

Hogan was actually able to get Newkirk to take a few spoonfuls of the broth, but he had to feed it to him with his free hand, while talking reassuringly to him. When Newkirk wouldn't take any more, Hogan tried the tea, but by now Newkirk was beginning to look sleepy. Hogan gently pushed him back onto the bunk, grabbing the blanket by his feet and covering him up. Newkirk's eyes closed, and his face started to take on a more peaceful appearance. Hogan sat on the edge of the bunk, watching him, and as Newkirk drifted off to sleep, his hand finally relaxed its hold on Hogan's arm.

Hogan pulled his arm away gently, and then changed out of his German uniform and into his pajamas. Then he hopped up to his upper bunk and stretched out, and soon he was fast asleep.


	3. The calm before the storm

A/N: Once again, I would like to say how much I really appreciate all your reviews! And I apologize if my last author's note was confusing; I didn't mean that I would update in a week, I meant that I would update as often as possible, and would try not to make you wait more than a week at the most. Hope that makes more sense!

Okay, my Russian is very rusty, so I am trying to stick mostly to what I remember, to keep it as accurate as possible. But if anyone finds a mistake, please feel free to let me know. Also, I'm using an older transliteration to the Roman alphabet, only because I'm more comfortable with it. And I will provide translations at the end of the chapter.

* * *

Hogan awoke to a knocking on the door to his quarters. He brought his arm up and checked his watch; he could have sworn he'd just fallen asleep, although the timepiece on his wrist showed otherwise. He hadn't realized how exhausted he'd been, but now that he'd actually gotten some sleep, he wasn't sure if he felt more rested, or just more tired. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, and then sat up and scooted over to the side of his upper bunk, jumping to the floor in one swift moment. As he walked the few steps to his door, he stole a quick peek at Newkirk, who was still sleeping. The corporal's face looked calm, and he hoped it was a good sign.

Hogan opened the door just as Wilson was raising his hand to knock again. He motioned the medic to come in, and closed the door behind him. Wilson moved over to the bottom bunk and gave Newkirk a cursory glance, then walked back toward the door where Hogan was still standing.

"I see you got him to go to sleep," Wilson whispered. "I trust you got some sleep as well, Colonel?"

"Yes, mom," Hogan answered quietly, looking at Wilson first with irritation, and then flashing him a grin.

"Colonel?" Newkirk's voice came drifting over to the two men. Hogan spun around and, in two strides, reached the bottom bunk and took a seat on the edge of it.

"Newkirk, you're awake!" Hogan exclaimed, instantly noticing the lucidity radiating out of the corporal's eyes.

Newkirk looked up at him in confusion. "Colonel, what am I doin' in your bunk?"

Now it was Hogan's turn to look confused. "What do you mean, Newkirk? Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

Just then Wilson, suspecting what might have happened, leaned in over Hogan's shoulder and asked, "What's the last thing you remember, Newkirk?"

Newkirk's brow furrowed in concentration. "Let's see…Louis and I were gettin' ready to go out and 'elp take care o' that munitions dump…we were in the tunnel waitin' on Andrew, who was packin' up the dynamite…and then I woke up 'ere."

"That's fine, Newkirk," Wilson said, and then grabbed Hogan's arm and began to pull him aside.

"Hold that thought," Hogan patted Newkirk's hand, "I'll be right back." He got up and followed Wilson to the other side of the room.

When they got there, Wilson turned to Hogan and said quietly, "Colonel, he doesn't remember what happened to him. It must have been something so terrible, at least to him, that the only way his mind can cope with it is by blocking it out. I've heard of cases like this before."

Hogan nodded. "So have I. The question is, what do we do about it?"

Wilson scratched his head. "I don't know, sir. Like I told you, I'm no psychiatrist. But maybe it would be better for him if he doesn't remember; at least for now."

"You could be right."

"Colonel?" Newkirk called out, his voice now filling with alarm. "What 'appened to me? Why is my uniform so dirty?" He had sat up on the bunk, and was examining himself more closely, "'Ow long 'ave I been sleepin'? Did somethin' 'appen out there at the munitions dump?" And then he suddenly sucked in his breath. "Are Louis and Andrew all right?"

While Newkirk was talking, Hogan had rejoined him on the edge of the bunk. "Relax, Newkirk," he said, smiling reassuringly at him. "LeBeau and Carter are fine. You guys did a great job blowing up that dump."

"Then, what 'appened?"

Hogan glanced at Wilson, his face clearly asking the medic, w_hat should I tell him?_

Wilson just shrugged at him.

Hogan thought for a moment, and in the end, decided to tell Newkirk the truth. He knew the Englishman would find out soon enough, anyway. After all, everyone in the camp knew; there was no way he could hide it from him.

He turned back to the corporal. "Newkirk," Hogan began, and then hesitated. _How should I put this? _"On the way back from blowing up the munitions dump, you got picked up by an SS patrol. You were in their custody for three days. Schultz and I brought you back last night."

Newkirk's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. "I was? Are you serious, Colonel? So, you're tellin' me I've been gone for three days…and durin' that time, I was bein' held by the SS? But, that doesn't make any sense, sir. I mean, I don't see 'ow I could forget somethin' like that!"

Hogan's expression grew serious. "We think something happened to you there, Newkirk. Something terrible; something that you've blocked out. And I think it would be better if you didn't try too hard to remember it; at least for now." Visions of Newkirk's condition from the previous night flashed through his mind, making him inwardly shudder. He never wanted to see him like that again.

When Hogan had finished, Newkirk looked at him with the same confused expression that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face. "But, I'm not hurt," he looked down at himself, patting his chest, confirming there were no signs of physical torture, then looked back at Hogan. "I don't understand, sir. What could 'ave 'appened, that I can't bloody remember?" He let out a sigh; his confusion at last giving way to frustration.

"I don't know, Newkirk. I wish I did." Hogan replied, wondering to himself if he really did want to know what had happened. "But you seem okay, now, don't you?" And then, as what he'd just said sunk in, he felt an enormous rush of relief flood through him. He smiled wide and added, "And I'm glad to have you back!"

"Well then, I'm glad to be back, meself, sir," Newkirk responded, returning his smile, "Even if I don't remember where I've been."

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Colonel?" LeBeau called out softly as he opened it a crack and poked his head in. "It's almost time for roll call."

"You can come in, LeBeau," Hogan told him, knowing how anxious he'd been – they'd all been – about Newkirk's condition.

LeBeau opened the door wider and stepped inside. His gaze immediately landed on Newkirk, and his face lit up when he saw his friend sitting on the bunk, looking back at him with that familiar hint of amusement in his eyes. "Newkirk, you're okay!" he exclaimed, a big smile on his face.

Newkirk grinned at him. "Why wouldn't I be, Louis?"

LeBeau's smile faltered. "You didn't look so good last night when the Colonel brought you back, mon ami."

"He doesn't remember that, LeBeau, or what happened to him while he was gone," Hogan informed the French corporal.

LeBeau glanced at Hogan, then back at Newkirk. "You don't?"

"Not a bloody thing," Newkirk replied, shaking his head.

"Maybe that's good," LeBeau responded, lost in thought for a moment, and then his face grew happy again. "I'm just glad you're back, Newkirk. Tonight I will cook you the most delicious meal, it will be trés magnifique!"

"That sounds great, Louis; as a matter of fact, I'm starvin'!" Newkirk suddenly felt his stomach rumbling at the thought of food.

"Then I will cook you a special breakfast, too!"

"Unfortunately, it will have to wait until after roll call, LeBeau," Hogan said, looking at his watch. "We better get going."

As if on cue, they heard the outer door to the barracks open, and Schultz telling everyone to get outside. He didn't sound like his usual self; however, and Hogan had a feeling that the sergeant was still concerned about Newkirk. After all, Schultz had been with him when he'd found the corporal in the cell. Hogan knew he'd never forget that look of terror in Newkirk's eyes, and he suspected Schultz wouldn't, either.

Schultz made his way to Hogan's quarters, and then stopped; hovering near the doorway. "Colonel Hogan, I wanted to ask you…how is Newkirk doing?"

"Come in and see for yourself, Schultz," Hogan answered.

Schultz walked nervously into the small room, fearing the worst. He saw Hogan perched on the edge of the bottom bunk, and then, to his surprise, saw Newkirk sitting up in the bunk, smiling at him.

"Hi ya, Schultzie!" Newkirk gave him a little wave.

Schultz heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, Newkirk! You're all right!"

"Yeah, I'm all right, Schultz."

"Oh, that's great news! I was so worried when we brought you back last night. You were not well at all…"

"No, Schultz, he wasn't," Hogan cut in, as he got up and went over to the Sergeant. "But he's fine now, so if you could give us five minutes to change?" He grabbed the big man's arm and started guiding him out of his quarters.

Schultz finally noticed that Hogan was still in his pajamas. "All right, Colonel Hogan, I will give you five minutes," he said, and then added, "But not a minute more!" Then he leaned in and said quietly, "I _am_ glad that Newkirk's better."

Hogan smiled at him. "Me too, Schultz, me too."

As Hogan re-entered the room, he told Newkirk that he could go put on one of his clean uniforms, then ushered everyone out of his quarters, and quickly changed into his own uniform. As he went out to join the rest of the men, it was obvious how elated they were to see Newkirk more or less back to his old self. Carter, especially, couldn't have smiled wider if he'd tried. Hogan didn't know if Newkirk would ever remember what happened to him or not, but he found himself hoping for the latter; although, he still couldn't help wondering what the SS could have done to terrify him so badly. Maybe someday, he would find out, and whoever was responsible for it, he'd make him pay. But for now, he had his man...his corporal...his friend back; and that's all that mattered.

* * * * * *

Things returned to normal pretty quickly. They'd had to lay off the sabotage activity for a while, because there was an unusually high amount of German activity in the area. So they concentrated on getting downed flyers that they rescued back to England, as well as escaped prisoners from other stalags that found their way to Stalag 13.

One evening, about a week after Hogan had brought Newkirk back, LeBeau and Carter went out to meet a couple of prisoners who had escaped from Stalag 16, and bring them safely back to camp. Hogan and Newkirk were waiting in the tunnel, along with Kinch, who was monitoring the radio, as usual. Soon enough, they heard footsteps coming from the direction of the emergency entrance, and looked up to see Carter and LeBeau, followed by two American enlisted men, and someone else; only he wasn't an American, he was Russian.

"Hey, Colonel," Carter called out, "We're back!"

"I can see that, Carter," Hogan replied, "And who's the extra man you brought with you?"

"We found him wandering out in the forest, mon Colonel," LeBeau answered. "I think he must have bailed out of his plane."

"Yeah, Colonel, he looked really lost and confused, so we thought we better bring him back with us." Carter said.

"What do you mean, 'We', Carter?" LeBeau retorted, "It was your idea!"

"Well, we couldn't just leave him out there for the Krauts to find him, now, could we?"

"Hold it, hold it!" Hogan interrupted. "You brought a Russian flyer back with you? What am I supposed to do with him? I can't send him to England; at least, not right away. We've still got eight more guys to get out of here, including the other two you just brought in."

"Well, gee, Colonel," Carter replied, "He seemed so scared and all, it just didn't seem right not to bring him back with us."

Hogan looked at Carter, his irritation evident. Then he sighed and went over to the Russian, who looked at him with frightened eyes. "I'm Colonel Hogan," he said to him, "What's your name?"

The man just looked at him, and then managed to squeak out, "Ya nye ponimayu; nye govoryu po-anglijski."

Hogan smiled and nodded, and then turned back to Carter. "That's just great! He doesn't speak English."

Suddenly Newkirk walked up next to Hogan and looked at the Russian. "Zdpavstvujte! Kak vy pozhivaete?" he said without blinking an eye.

The Russian's eyes flew wide. "Khorosho, spasibo!" he answered, breaking out in a smile.

Newkirk smiled back. He gestured to the bench that butted up against the wall. "Sadites', pozhalujcta. Kak vas zovut?"

"Menya zovut Sergei."

"Menya zovut Pyotr. Rad s vami poznakomit'sya."

Hogan grabbed Newkirk's arm and led him away from the Russian. "What are you doing?" He whispered fiercely.

"I'm talkin' to that flyer over there that Carter brought in, sir," Newkirk answered, looking at him in total bewilderment.

"Oh, yeah? When did you learn to speak Russian, Newkirk?"

Newkirk was taken aback. "Russian? I don't speak Russian, Colonel. I don't know what you're talkin' about…" suddenly an image formed in his mind; a vision of a dark cell, a face that he couldn't quite make out…and then it was gone.

"Well, it sure sounded like Russian to me!" Hogan hissed. "And that flyer that Carter insisted on bringing in here sure seems to understand you!"

Newkirk looked dumbfounded. "I…I don't know where I learned to speak Russian, Colonel. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay, Newkirk," Hogan's expression softened. "It just took me by surprise. I'm glad that you're able to communicate with…"

"Sergei."

"…Sergei, over there. If he needs anything, I'll let you handle it. Okay?" Hogan smiled at him.

"All right, Colonel." Newkirk smiled back, but he still looked confused.

* * * * * *

Later that night, when everyone had crawled into their bunks, Newkirk stared up at the ceiling above him for a while, wondering where on Earth he'd learned to speak Russian, or at least enough of it to carry on a limited conversation with Sergei. At last he closed his eyes and fell asleep; too exhausted to remain awake any longer.

And that's when the dreams began.

* * *

Я не понимаю. -- Ya nye ponimayu. -- I don't understand.

Не говорю по-английски. -- Nye govoryu po-anglijski. -- I don't speak English.

Здравствуйте. -- Zdpavstvujte. -- Hello.

Как вы поживаете? -- Kak vy pozhivaete? -- How are you?

Хорошо, срасибо. -- Khorosho, spasibo. -- Good, thank you.

Cадитесь, пожалуйста. -- Sadites', pozhalujcta. -- Sit down, please.

Как вас зовут? -- Kak vas zovut? -- What is your name?

Меня зовут... -- Menya zovut… -- My name is…

Рад с вами рознакомиться. -- Rad s vami poznakomit'sya. -- Pleased to meet you.


	4. First of many

A/N: Once again, thanks so much for all your reviews! And I just wanted to say that, no, there's no slash in this story. If I do post a slash story, I promise I will put warnings on it. There will, however, be some graphic imagery alluded to later on in this story, and I will put up extra warnings when I post that part.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. Yevgenij Nikolayevich Ivanov and Major Steiger are from my own imagination.

* * *

As Newkirk was drifting off to dreamland, Hogan was lying on his bunk wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his quarters. He'd made his usual attempts to get drowsy; closing his eyes, trying to make his body relax, even counting sheep, but none of those tricks were working this evening. And, since sheer force of will wasn't going to do it either, he'd finally given up and had decided to let his mind have its way with him; an all too familiar routine. He sighed in resignation as his thoughts kept prominently displaying themselves one-by-one in his head, causing him to give his attention to each one as it presented itself.

First and foremost on the agenda appeared to be what had transpired earlier that evening, when Carter and LeBeau had returned with the two escapees, and that Russian flyer, Sergei. He hadn't really been angry at Carter for bringing Sergei in; hell, he would have done the same thing, himself. And he certainly couldn't blame the Russian for the situation he'd been thrown into. The real reason for his annoyance was the frustration he'd been feeling at London for taking their sweet time arranging transportation for all the men he had waiting to get to England. Oh, he knew it couldn't be helped; the Krauts had forced everyone to curb their activity this past week. But it was his responsibility to keep those guys safe, and make sure they got back across to the Allied lines in one piece.

And poor Carter, his only fault had been bad timing. He'd have to find a way to make it up to him tomorrow.

And then there was Newkirk. He certainly hadn't meant to be so cross with him, but when the corporal started speaking Russian with Sergei, he had completely overreacted. But it wasn't anger that had caused him to grab Newkirk and haul him aside, practically yelling at him for suddenly having the ability to speak a foreign language, it was fear. Fear from the knowledge that the only place Newkirk could have picked up Russian was from the facility that he'd spent three days at, courtesy of the SS. He remembered the telephone call that Burkhalter had made to SS Headquarters when the General was attempting to locate Newkirk. They'd informed Burkhalter that the place was normally used for Russian prisoners, so he could only assume that Newkirk must have had contact with at least one of them.

So what did it mean? Was Newkirk starting to remember what had happened to him? Had he foolishly convinced himself that Newkirk was fine, and whatever had occurred in that place would remain buried in the past…and in Newkirk's mind? He'd just witnessed the Englishman spout Russian to Sergei, without even being aware that he was doing it. And for a moment – just a moment – he could have sworn he'd seen Newkirk's eyes glaze over, staring at something beyond the tunnel, beyond the camp, perhaps even beyond the present and into a nightmare that would be best left un-revisited.

And that brought him to his next thought, which had been patiently waiting its turn. If Newkirk was starting to remember, what would that do to him? Would he start to draw into himself again, ending up like he was on that day that he and Schultz had found him; terrified, vacant, lost? As that image popped into his mind, he shut his eyes tightly, trying to will it from his memory.

No, he couldn't let that happen to Newkirk, he wouldn't! He'd protect him this time, he'd convince him that nothing bad had happened to him, he'd keep him from having a breakdown, he'd…

But he knew he couldn't do any of those things. He rolled onto his side, and let out a huge sigh. Oh, how he wished he could just close up shop, and he and his men could take off for London, and forget this place ever existed. But it wasn't in the cards, was it? And if Newkirk did start to fall apart on him, he'd have to find a way to not only help him, but protect the mission and keep it going. Suddenly he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could pass the burden of command onto someone else…at least for a while.

* * * * * *

"_Come on, get going, schnell!" The SS guard gave Newkirk a shove toward the stairs leading up to the front entrance of the old brick building where they'd brought him. Newkirk stumbled, but caught his balance at the last minute and started to climb the steps, mindful of the guard who had his gun trained on him. The building itself didn't look particularly ominous from the outside, but there was no telling what might be waiting for him within._

_Once they were inside, the guard grabbed Newkirk's arm and hauled him up to the front desk, greeting the younger guard who sat behind it, and telling him about the excitement he'd missed. The man seemed properly disappointed, and then remarked how happy the Major would be to have an English prisoner, and where should they put him? The guard smiled and suggested that they stick him in with their other new arrival. The desk guard smiled back and handed him a key, and the guard who had brought Newkirk in once again grabbed the corporal's arm and led him down the hall. _

_When they'd reached the cell where Newkirk was to be held, the guard opened it and shoved him in, shutting the door quickly; his laughter following him as he walked back the way he'd come. _

_The cell was dark, but there was a small window high up on the outside wall, and as the light filtered in from the clear night, Newkirk's eyes adjusted, and he began to make out several shapes sharing the room with him. One, sitting against the far wall, appeared to be an older man, rather thin, staring out into space with a blank expression on his face. The other figure was the man that had just positioned himself in front of him; he was a big bear of a man, with broad shoulders and a stocky build, and had a head of thick, black hair. _

_The man just stared at Newkirk for a few moments. Finally he said, "Vy govoritye po-russki?"_

_Newkirk's eyes widened in surprise, "If you're askin' if I speak Russian, uh, sorry, mate," he answered. "Say, you wouldn't by any chance speak English, would you?" _

"_Is your lucky day!" The Russian smiled at him. "Da, I speak English."_

"_That's great!" Newkirk smiled back. "It would 'ave gotten real quiet in 'ere if you didn't."_

"_I see you are Angliskij flyer; Corporal, Da?" The big man said. "I am Sergeant in VVS…Voenno-Vozdushnye Sily."_

"_I take it that means, Russian Air Force," Newkirk stated the obvious._

"_Ha! Angliskij gets 10 points!" the man laughed heartily. "So, kak vas zovut? That mean, what your name?"_

_Newkirk grinned at the gregarious Russian. "Peter Newkirk," he answered._

"_Nu, khorosho, I call you Pyotr. I am Yevgenij Nikolayevich Ivanov, but you call me Yevgenij."_

"_Nice to meet you, Yevgenij." Newkirk held out his hand. _

_Yevgenij grabbed it and shook it vigorously. "Same here," he said, and then let go. "So, why sumasshedshij Major bring you here, eh? This is place for Russian prisoners."_

_Newkirk shook his head. "I 'ave no idea, mate."_

_Yevgenij looked at him curiously. "Mate?"_

"_Yeah, it means pal, chum, comrade…"_

"_Oh, tovarishch!"_

_Newkirk smiled wide. "Now you've got it, mate!"_

_Yevgenij let out a burst of laughter, and clapped the Englander on the shoulder._

"_So, 'ow long 'ave you been 'ere, Yevgenij?" Newkirk asked._

"_Since morning. My plane was shot down. I escaped before crash, and landed in forest. That's where they find me."_

"_What about that bloke sittin' against the wall, is he from your plane, too?"_

"_Nyet. I don't know him; he was already in cell when they brought me here."_

"_He doesn't look well, does 'e?"_

_Yevgenij shook his head. "Nyet. He won't talk; just sits and stares at room. His name is Dimitrov, is on his uniform. He is Starshij Lejtenant."_

"_He's a Lieutenant?"_

"_Da. Could be pilot."_

"_So, Yevgenij, you mentioned somethin' about a Major?"_

"_Da! Major Steiger, SS." Yevgenij turned his head and spat on the ground. "On ochen' sumasshedshij." He brought his hand up and circled his index finger next to his head._

"_You mean, he's mad?"_

"_Not mad, crazy!"_

_Newkirk was going to tell him that's what he meant, but decided to let it go._

"_You will meet him in morning, then you see." Yevgenij let out a huge yawn. "Now I think is time for sleep, Pyotr. Newkirk. Newkirk?"_

Newkirk?

Newkirk opened his eyes, quickly noticing a hand on his shoulder, shaking it gently. He turned to his side and saw Carter peering at him with a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Newkirk, are you okay?" Carter asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah, Carter, I'm okay," Newkirk whispered back, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you were making some funny noises in your sleep."

"I was?" Newkirk replied, looking at Carter with confusion, "What was I doin'?"

"Mumbling, mostly. Some of it I could kind of make out, but some of it sounded like the Russian that you and Sergei were speaking down in the tunnel. And then you started kind of groaning, and that's when I thought I better wake you up, just to make sure you were okay."

"Well, as you can see, Carter, I'm fine."

"Boy, you must have been having some strange dream, then. So, what was it about?"

"It was…" Newkirk's face took on a look of concentration as he tried to remember what he'd been dreaming. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of a man's face, and there was something familiar about him…but it was gone before he could recognize him. "Sorry, Andrew," he said, "I can't remember now."

"Maybe that's a good thing, considering it didn't sound like a very good dream to me."

"Maybe you're right. Tell you what, mate, you go back to bed, and we'll both go back to sleep, and I'll try not to 'ave the same dream again, all right?"

"Okay, Newkirk. But if you do, I might just have to wake you up again."

"You do that, Carter. Goodnight." Newkirk patted him on the shoulder, and then rolled onto his back.

"Goodnight, Newkirk."

Carter crawled into his bunk, covering himself with his thin, scratchy, prison-issued blanket, and in no time he was fast asleep. Newkirk could hear him snoring softly, and smiled to himself. _Andrew certainly doesn't 'ave anythin' goin' on in that 'ead of his to keep him awake, does he?_

But Newkirk did. He stared up at the ceiling, having memorized the patterns in the wood by now, and tried again to remember what his dream had been all about. Carter said he'd been speaking Russian…maybe he was dreaming about the place where he'd learned it, but where could that be?

But then he already knew the answer to that, didn't he? Where else could he have picked it up? Hogan said he'd been held by the SS for three days. He had taken the Colonel's word for it, but secretly he'd been wondering if it was really true. How could he be in their custody for three days and not remember? But if it wasn't true, then where had he been, really? And why would Hogan lie to him? And why couldn't he bloody remember?

He took a deep breath, and then sighed in frustration. Part of him thought he'd go crazy if his memory of those three days didn't return soon, but another part of him hoped it would never come back. He didn't know what to think anymore, but there was one thing he was sure of; it was going to take him a long time to get back to sleep.

* * *

Вы говорите по-русски? -- Vy govoritye po-russki? -- Do you speak Russian?

Английский. -- Angliskij. -- English

Ну, хорошо. -- Nu, khorosho. -- Well, good.

Товарищ. -- Tovarishch. -- Comrade

Старший Лейенант. -- Starshij Lejtenant. -- First Lieutenant

Он очень сумасшедший. -- On ochen' sumasshedshij. -- He's very crazy. (insane)


	5. Starting to Remember

A/N: It hadn't occurred to me before that some of you might like to see the Russian words I'm using for this story in Cyrillic. So I went back and included them in the definitions of the words and sentences in the two previous chapters, and will continue to do so from now on. Just thought I'd let you know, in case you're interested.

* * *

Morning came too quickly, as it always did. The men staggered out for roll call, and when the Kommandant finally decided to make an appearance and shout his perfunctory dismissal, they shuffled back into the barracks. LeBeau headed immediately for the stove to start on breakfast, while Hogan, Newkirk, Carter and Kinch took a seat at the long table in the middle of the room. Hogan and Newkirk looked especially bleary-eyed this morning; neither of them having gotten much sleep the night before.

LeBeau brought their cups over and filled them with some of the coffee he'd made earlier. Hogan flashed him a grateful smile and, raising his cup, breathed in the aroma of the hot liquid, which was already starting to make him feel more awake. He took a sip and then looked at the men seated around him.

"All right, fellas," Hogan began, "We've got a lot of work to do today. We've got nine guys to get ready to send to England. I know London's been as slow as molasses getting these guys out of here, but that could change at any time, and we have to have them ready to go. Kinch, after breakfast, I want you to get on the radio and contact London; find out if they can speed it up a little."

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered.

"Newkirk," Hogan continued, "I need you and LeBeau to work on making some civilian clothes for these guys."

"Yes, sir," Newkirk responded.

"Oui, mon Colonel," LeBeau called out from the stove.

"And Carter, I need you to take everyone's pictures for their phony IDs."

"Yes, sir," Carter replied quietly. He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up. "Colonel, I'd just like to say that I'm really sorry for bringing that Russian flyer in last night. I know I shouldn't have done that without checking with you first. I don't blame you for being mad at me. In fact, sometimes I don't know why you keep me around…"

"I'm not mad at you, Carter," Hogan interrupted, a smile forming on his face.

Carter, who had been hanging his head during his attempt at apologizing, looked up with surprise. "You're not, sir?"

Hogan grinned wider. "No, I'm not. I would have done the same thing. Part of our job here is to recover downed Allied flyers in the area and get them out of Germany, and that includes Russian flyers. We just haven't encountered too many of them around here; the Krauts always seem to find them first." Hogan paused, while his face took on a more serious expression, and he let out a sigh. "I just wish London would get on the ball, and get these guys out faster." Then he turned to Kinch and said, "That reminds me, Kinch, you'd better let them know that we're sending a Russian flyer who doesn't speak any English; they might want to bring a translator along for that pick-up."

LeBeau, who was standing behind Hogan, now piped up, "We could always send Newkirk with him; he can translate."

Hogan shot a look at Newkirk, that uneasy feeling that he'd had last night now creeping back into his gut.

"Yeah," Carter replied animatedly, "He was sure speaking a lot of it in his sleep last night, boy!" He turned his head to look at Newkirk, "I don't know what you were dreaming, but I couldn't understand half of what you said."

Newkirk looked back, clearly annoyed. "Carter, no one 'ere is interested in what I flippin' dreamed last night!"

"I am, Newkirk," Hogan said, becoming alarmed, "What were you dreaming about?"

"Nothin', Colonel!" Newkirk exclaimed, "In fact, I couldn't tell you if I was dreamin' or not…I don't remember it now, anyway."

"Oh, you were definitely dreaming, all right," Carter told him, "It sounded like you were talking to somebody, and then you started moaning, like you were in pain or something."

"Shut up, Carter!" Newkirk hissed at him.

Carter was taken aback by Newkirk's reaction. "What are you getting mad at me, for?"

"Because it's no one's bloody business, that's why!"

"I'll decide whose business it is!" Hogan shouted. "Newkirk, in my office…now!"

Newkirk got up and headed into Hogan's office, throwing a dirty look at Carter on the way. Hogan followed him, and once they were in the small room, he shut the door and turned to look at the seething Corporal.

Hogan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Newkirk," he said calmly, keeping his own anger in check, "If you're starting to remember what happened to you at that SS facility, I need to know now."

Newkirk glared at him. "Why are you makin' such a bloody big deal out of this, Colonel?"

"Because…" Suddenly Hogan's anger deflated as he once again recalled Newkirk's appearance when he and Schultz had found him. "Newkirk, you were in pretty bad shape when we picked you up from that place," he said, his expression now showing concern, "If you're starting to remember, well…"

"Colonel," Newkirk cut in, his own anger dissipating, "You never told me 'ow I was when you found me."

"That's because you didn't need to know." Hogan replied, neglecting to tell him the real reason; he was scared to death of triggering a relapse in the corporal.

"I think I need to know now, gov'nor," Newkirk looked at him with determination.

Hogan sighed, knowing Newkirk was right. "Okay, I'll tell you. When Schultz and I went to pick you up, you were, well, out of it. You were just staring into space, not saying a word."

Newkirk's eyes widened, "I was?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes."

"'Ow long was I like that?"

"Until we got you back here, and you fell asleep."

"So, when I woke up in the mornin'…"

"You'd forgotten what happened to you."

As Newkirk appeared to be digesting that information, Hogan continued, "Whatever you went through, Newkirk, you've buried it somewhere in your memory. And frankly, I was hoping it would stay there. But if you're starting to remember, you need to tell me."

Newkirk looked at him with complete sincerity. "Colonel, I swear to you, I don't remember a bloody thing…not about what 'appened to me, not even about what I dreamed last night."

Hogan studied Newkirk's face, and knew he was telling the truth. "All right, just promise me that if you do start to remember, or you have any more dreams like last night, you'll let me know."

Newkirk smiled at him reassuringly. "I will, gov'nor, I promise."

"Good," Hogan smiled back, "Now, let's get going; we have work to do." As they left his quarters, Hogan realized he'd left one thing out of his description of Newkirk's condition when he'd found him in the cell. But it was something he just couldn't bring himself to tell the corporal; at least, not yet.

He hadn't told Newkirk about that look of pure terror he'd seen in his eyes.

* * * * * *

The next two days were a flurry of activity. The Germans had finally moved out of the area, and London was at last able to step up its efforts to get the waiting Allied prisoners and escapees back to England. Hogan and his crew were kept busy from dawn to dusk; making civilian outfits, producing fake IDs, and coordinating escape routes. By the end of the second day, they had finally gotten all of the exiting men out; including Sergei. When Schultz came to inform the barracks that it was time for lights out and everyone had to go to sleep, Hogan and his men were more than ready to comply.

Newkirk hadn't had any more strange dreams during that time; at least, none that he was aware of. So when he jumped up to his bunk and stretched out on the thin, lumpy mattress, he fell asleep almost immediately.

* * * * *

_Newkirk woke to the sound of a key rattling in the lock to the door of the cell he'd been thrown into the previous night. Dawn had arrived, and the growing light that was seeping into the small dingy room through the lone window above reflected off the contents of the room, producing a sort of dull, grayish hue. He sat up and tried to brush some of the dirt off of his uniform, noticing that the floor was covered with it, but some of it had been ground into the material from having to sleep on it. He looked up and saw Yevgenij stretched out on the floor next to the far wall. The Russian sergeant was still asleep, and had his arms wrapped around himself in an effort to keep warm. He glanced over at Dimitrov, who was lying on the floor against the adjacent wall. The lieutenant was curled up tightly in a fetal position; his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs. _

_As the door to the cell swung open, Dimitrov's eyes popped open, and he let out a small whimper as he watched the two guards enter. They were carrying three bowls, which they proceeded to set one in front of each of the prisoners. The guard who brought the bowl to Yevgenij gave the Russian a shove with his foot, and yelled at him to wake up. Yevgenij opened his eyes, and then slowly sat up, glaring at the guard. _

_The guard was a young, rather skinny fellow, and even though he may have had a gun, when he saw the threatening look coming from the big, burly man, he subconsciously took a few steps backwards. The other guard was already heading for the door, and the one that had unwisely roused Yevgenij's anger hurriedly followed him out. _

_When they were gone, Yevgenij looked at Newkirk and smiled. "Ha! Did you see that guy? He looked like scared rabbit!"_

_Newkirk chuckled. "Well, you do outweigh him by a hundred pounds, mate!"_

_Yevgenij's booming laughter resounded throughout the room. Then he picked up the bowl that was sitting on the floor next to him. "Let's see what is for breakfast."_

_Newkirk scooped up his bowl as well, and peered into it, sniffing tentatively at the questionable substance that barely resembled food. He wasn't surprised to discover that the watery mush smelled as bad as it looked. _

_Yevgenij grabbed the spoon sticking up out of the bowl, and shoved some of the gruel into his mouth. "Ugh!" he exclaimed after he'd swallowed it, "This is same thing they brought last night, before you arrive…lucky for you!"_

"_They don't expect us to eat this ruddy swill, do they?" Newkirk said, while drawing tracks through the glop with his spoon._

_Yevgenij took another bite and made a face. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, is better than nothing." He gulped down the rest, trying to finish it quickly before it made him gag._

_Newkirk watched him, and knew he wasn't going to be able to do the same. He held out his bowl to Yevgenij and told him, "'Ere, then, you can 'ave mine."_

_Yevhenij shook his head. "Nyet, you should eat it, Pyotr. I know is bad, but you need to keep up your strength. Is no telling what sumasshedshij Major has planned for us," he looked over at Dimitrov, as if to emphasize his point. The lieutenant was sitting up now, staring vacantly into space._

"_What about 'im?" Newkirk asked, concerned for the Russian officer, "He 'asn't touched his food."_

_Yevgenij nodded. "Ya znayu. He didn't eat last night, also. I started to go over to help him, but when I got close, he stared at me like I was monster, and then started to make sound like crying dog, so I gave up."_

_Newkirk hated the thought of Dimitrov just sitting there, starving to death. "Mind if I 'ave a go at it?" He said._

_Yevgenij looked surprised. "If that mean you try, be my guest."_

_Newkirk got up and walked slowly over to Dimitrov, talking to him in a soothing voice. "There's nothin' to worry about, mate, I'm just comin' over to give you a hand with that food you've got sittin' in front of you…you don't 'ave to be afraid, I'm not goin' to hurt you…"_

_But as Newkirk got near, Dimitrov turned his head to look at him, and his eyes suddenly grew wide, filling with a raw terror that Newkirk had never seen in a human being before. The lieutenant started whimpering again, pushing his back against the wall as hard as he could. Newkirk tried to edge a little closer, but the terrified man just started to wail louder, so he backed away, trying to calm him down as he went. "Sorry, mate, it's all right, I didn't mean to scare you, I'll leave you alone." Newkirk went back and sat down in his previous spot, and Dimitrov quieted down, and went back to staring at nothing._

_Newkirk looked at Yevgenij, a mixture of shock and fear evident on his face, "Blimey, what did they do to 'im?" _

"_Nye znayu, Pyotr. But I have bad feeling that we will find out."_

_Newkirk's expression changed to dread. "I 'ave that same feelin', mate." _

"_And now I think your friend wants you."_

"_What do you mean, Yevgenij?"_

"_I mean, is time to wake up, Newkirk. Wake up, Newkirk."_

"Wake up, Newkirk," Carter reached over and started to shake the Englander's shoulder gently, "You're dreaming again."

Newkirk's eyes flew open. He looked in Carter's direction, but his focus seemed to be somewhere else. He was breathing rapidly, and had beads of perspiration dotting his face.

"Newkirk, are you okay?" Carter was becoming worried by now.

"I was in a cell…there was someone there…a man…a big man…and there was someone else…" Suddenly Newkirk's eyes grew clearer, and he appeared to recognize Carter at last. He blinked a few times as the vision faded from view, focusing on the sergeant standing by his bunk, who was looking at him with great concern. "You again, Carter?" Newkirk said, "Don't tell me, let me guess. I was talkin' in me sleep."

Carter was not only worried, he was becoming thoroughly confused by now. "Newkirk, you weren't just talking this time, you were kind of crying out, like someone was doing something terrible to you. And then you started rolling back and forth on your bunk, like you were trying to get away from something."

Newkirk looked at Carter like he'd gone daft. "Now, 'ow could I be doin' all that when I don't even remember what I was dreamin'!"

"But you just said you were in a cell, and there were people in there with you!"

Newkirk blinked in confusion. "I did?"

"Yeah, you did. Don't you remember saying that when I first woke you up?"

Newkirk just shook his head. _What the bloody 'ell is goin' on with me?_

"Who's Yevgenij?"

Newkirk froze. His eyes opened wide as an image flooded into his mind. Suddenly he recognized the face that had been haunting him; it was the face of a big, friendly Russian sergeant that he'd met somewhere…someplace outside of camp…someplace bad…

"Newkirk, I'm going to get Colonel Hogan out here." Carter said, and turned to leave.

"Why would you want to be disturbin' the Colonel in the middle of the night, Carter?"

Carter spun back around when he heard Newkirk respond, his expression a mixture of fear and concern. "Because I've been talking to you for at least two minutes now, ever since I mentioned Yevgenij, and you've just been staring into space!"

* * *

Я знаю. – Ya znayu. – I know.

Не знаю. – Nye znayu. – I don't know.

Сумасшедший. – Sumasshedshij – Crazy.


	6. Meeting the Major

"What did you say, Carter?" Newkirk asked, not wanting to believe what the sergeant had just told him.

"I said, I've been talking to you for two minutes now, and the whole time you were just staring into space," Carter repeated more calmly, his fear starting to dissipate in direct proportion to Newkirk's normal behavior returning.

Newkirk's fear; however, was growing. "I was out of it for two minutes?" Hogan's words were coming back to haunt him; the colonel's description of what condition he'd been in when his commanding officer had found him suddenly sounded too familiar.

"Well, okay, it was probably more like twenty or thirty seconds," Carter admitted, "But you were really scaring me!"

Newkirk felt some relief that Carter had exaggerated the amount of time he'd apparently been staring into space, but it still unnerved him that he was doing it at all. He was about to tell Carter in no uncertain terms what he thought about the sergeant's miscalculation, when they both noticed someone approaching from the far end of the room, and suddenly Kinch was standing next to Carter.

"You two are gonna wake up the whole barracks if you keep talking," Kinch whispered, sounding annoyed, "What's so important that it can't wait until tomorrow, anyway?"

Carter seemed grateful to have reinforcements. "Newkirk had another dream," he stated to Kinch, as if no other explanation was necessary.

But Newkirk wouldn't let Carter off the hook that easily. "And Andrew 'ere is overreactin', as usual."

"I am not!" Carter huffed, turning his head to look at Newkirk, "You should've seen your face when I mentioned Yevge…" he caught himself, not wanting to risk Newkirk having another episode, "The name that you kept saying in your sleep."

"Yevgenij," Newkirk said quietly, his face unreadable.

"Who's Yevgenij?" Kinch asked.

"The Russian sergeant I met in…in…"

"He must be the guy who was in the cell with you," Carter volunteered.

"Yeah, the cell, that's where I met him. Nice enough bloke…big man; built like a tank, you might say," Newkirk answered, a faraway look in his eyes. "I remember…" Suddenly he shook his head, "It's gone, now."

"Newkirk, if you're starting to remember what happened to you, you better let the colonel know," Kinch said.

"I will, Kinch," Newkirk responded, "First thing in the mornin'."

"That's fine, Newkirk," Kinch replied, and then, glancing back and forth between Newkirk and Carter, he added, "In the meantime, why don't you guys go back to sleep, and let the rest of us do the same."

Kinch went back to his bunk and crawled in, and Carter plopped down on his own bunk and stretched out. It didn't take long before both men were sleeping soundly. Newkirk rolled onto his back and once again stared up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts parade through his head.

He couldn't deny it anymore; he was starting to remember, and whatever it was that his memory had been desperately trying to hide from him was now manifesting itself in his dreams. And each time he'd had one of those dreams, he'd apparently responded with enough of a reaction to not only wake Carter, but cause him to become alarmed. Of course, he was more than a little alarmed, himself, after finding out that he'd been unresponsive for a brief period of time. For the umpteenth time he tried to think of what could have happened to him that was so horrible to cause him to just shut down. And did he really want to remember? Did he have a choice?

So, now what? Should he tell the colonel? He really didn't want to…Hogan had enough to worry about, and he didn't want to add himself to that list. And, after all, what did he have to tell him, anyway? All he remembered was being in a cell, and meeting some Russian sergeant named Yevgenij. That hardly seemed like enough of a revelation to bother the colonel with.

But he'd promised, hadn't he? And he knew that if _he_ didn't tell the colonel, Carter's big mouth would, and then he'd have Hogan's anger to deal with, on top of his worry. _Hmph! Knowin' the colonel, he'd probably assign someone to watch me sleep, just so 'e could let 'im know if I 'ave another dream! _He shuddered at the thought; that was definitely something he could live without!

_Guess I'll 'ave to tell 'im, then, _Newkirk thought as he rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, eventually falling asleep.

* * * * * *

The next morning, after roll call, Newkirk filled Hogan in on what had transpired the previous night and what he had remembered, conveniently omitting the part about him blanking out for half a minute. He received the anticipated look of concern from him, but reassured the colonel that he was fine. He could tell Hogan wasn't buying it; however, and resigned himself to the fact that Hogan was going to be giving him that worried look for a while. All he could do now was to hope that he wouldn't have any more dreams, and things would return to normal. If the dreams stopped now, well then, no harm done.

That afternoon Kinch came up from the tunnel with a message from London; there was a new weapons manufacturing plant that had recently begun production, and they wanted it destroyed. Kinch passed the message on to Hogan, who decided they'd go out the next night and take care of it. Now that the German activity in the area had dissipated, they could get back to the sabotage part of their operation. He told Carter to get some explosives ready, much to the sergeant's delight, and filled the men in on his plan.

As they all turned in that night, Hogan told them to get a good night's sleep; they'd need it for the following night's activities. He shot a worried glance in Newkirk's direction, which didn't go unnoticed by the Englishman, and then it was time for lights out. Newkirk sighed, wishing Hogan would stop worrying about him already, and then stretched out on his bunk and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself hoping that nothing would happen this time to disturb it. But it wasn't meant to be.

* * * * * *

"_So, you never told me, Pyotr, how you get caught. Did you escape plane crash?" Yevgenij asked, now that they'd finished what was supposed to be breakfast; although, calling it that was an insult to real food._

"_No, Yevgenij, I was tryin' to escape from a POW camp when they picked me up." Newkirk informed him._

"_Ah, so you here in Germany for long time, Da?"_

"_Yeah, mate, a long time." 'Too long,' Newkirk thought. "What about you, Yevgenij, 'ow did you end up in the forest where they found you?"_

"_Escaping plane crash," Yevgenij answered. "My parachute got caught in tree, so Germans found me easy. Eh, they would have found me, anyway. I am not easy man to hide!" He laughed at that, and Newkirk joined in._

_Just then the cell door opened, and the two guards who had brought their breakfast earlier entered, followed by an SS Major. He appeared to be in his forties, average height, balding, what hair was left showed considerable gray…in short, a rather common-looking fellow. But his eyes were what set him apart. Newkirk noticed he had dark eyes, which wasn't by itself unusual, but there was a strange intensity about them, and it made him instantly uneasy. _

_As the Major walked farther into the room, he looked first at Yevgenij. "Ah, Sergeant Ivanov, I trust you slept well," he said in a pleasant voice, but there was an ominous undertone to it._

"_A man with clear conscience always sleep well." Yevgenij answered matter-of-factly._

_The Major smiled. Then he turned his attention to Newkirk. "I see we have a new arrival. I am Major Steiger of the SS. And you are?"_

_Newkirk remained silent._

"_You don't want to answer?" Major Steiger smiled wider. "No matter. I already know who you are."_

"_Then why are you askin'?" Newkirk retorted._

_The smile remained on Steiger's face. "My men picked you up not far from Stalag 13. So I asked around this morning, and found out a prisoner escaped from there last night; an Englander by the name of Corporal Peter Newkirk."_

_Newkirk kept his gaze even. "If you know all that, then why don't you just send me back there?"_

"_Oh, but I'd like you to be my guest for a few days! I don't get many Englanders here…certainly not such high- spirited ones as yourself." Steiger seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the exchange that was taking place between him and Newkirk._

"_If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not." Newkirk answered._

"_But I insist, Corporal." Steiger stared at Newkirk intensely._

_The look in Steiger's eyes sent a chill down Newkirk's spine. _

"_Besides, I think your new friends would miss you." Steiger glanced at Yevgenij, and then over at Dimitrov, letting his gaze linger for a few extra moments on the whimpering lieutenant._

"'_E needs 'elp, you know," Newkirk stated._

_Steiger looked back at Newkirk with mock concern. "Yes, he's not doing very well at all, I'm afraid."_

_Newkirk started to feel his anger surfacing. "And I suppose you 'ad nothin' to do with it." _

"_What are you trying to say, Corporal?" Steiger looked at him with surprise. _

_Yevgenij, who was standing behind and to the left of the Major, now spoke up. "He want to know what you do to Dimitrov," he said loudly, anger evident in his voice, "And so do I." _

_Steiger whipped around and gave Yevgenij a deadly look. "If you know what's good for you, Sergeant, you'll keep your mouth shut." Then he turned back to Newkirk. "I assure you, I haven't touched him. But I will see that he's taken care of. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some…preparations to make." He flashed Newkirk a smile, and left the cell, the two guards following him out. _

_When they'd gone, Yevgenij looked at Newkirk. "So, now you met sumasshedshij Major."_

_Newkirk looked at him and nodded. "You're right, mate, he's completely mad."_

"_You say that once before. If that mean crazy, I agree."_

"_That's exactly what it means." Newkirk told him, and then added in a concerned voice, "What do you think the Major's goin' to do with Dimitrov?"_

_Yevgenij shrugged, and then sighed. "Nye znayu. But I hope is not worse than what he's done already."_

_Newkirk nodded. Then he sat down on the floor and leaned up against the wall. "So now we sit and wait."_

_Yevgenij took a seat, also. "You need something to keep your mind busy. Is what helps me when I worry."_

_Newkirk looked at him curiously. "You've got somethin' in mind, mate?"_

"_Are you kidding? I've got perfect thing! I teach you Russian."_

_Newkirk's eyes widened in surprise. "You want to teach me Russian?"_

"_Why not? I already know English, now is time for you to learn Russian."_

_Newkirk shook his head. "Thanks, mate, but I don't…"_

"_You have something better to do, Pyotr?" _

_Newkirk sighed in defeat. "No."_

"_That's, ' Nyet'." Yevgenij replied. "Now you try."_

"_Nyet."_

"_Good! You learned first word! Now say, 'Da'."_

"_I already know what that means, Yevgenij. It means, 'Yes'."_

"_Ha! You know two words now! See how easy?"_

_Newkirk smiled. "Da."_

_Yevgenij laughed loudly. "Okay, now we try something harder. Say, 'Zdravstvujtye', it mean, 'Hello'."_

_Newkirk looked perplexed. "You mind repeatin' that, Yevgenij?"_

"_**Zdravst**__…vuj…tye."_

"_**Zdravst**__…voo…wee…tye."_

_Yevgenij smiled. "Good! Now say again, only faster."_

"_Zdravstvujtye."_

"_Ochen' khorosho! That mean, 'Very good'."_

"_Ochen' khorosho." Newkirk repeated._

_Yevgenij nodded. "You learn fast, Pyotr."_

_Suddenly the door to the cell flew open, and the two guards burst into the room, once again followed by Major Steiger. The guards went over to Dimitrov, who immediately cried out in terror. They yanked the Lieutenant to his feet, and dragged him out of the cell; the Russian officer's piercing screams now reverberating against the walls of the small room. Major Steiger smiled, but there was nothing but malice emanating from his face. He cast a glance at the two remaining occupants as he left, his eyes locking on Newkirk. "I'll be back for you soon," he said, and then he was gone._

* * * * * *

"Kinch!" Carter called out, "I need some help over here!" He'd been trying for the last several minutes to wake up Newkirk, who was talking in his sleep again, only this time he was thrashing around in his bunk, and Carter was worried he was going to hurt himself.

As Kinch was jumping to his feet, Newkirk suddenly rolled right off the edge of his bunk, falling on top of Carter. The sergeant instinctively held out his arms to catch him, but he lost his balance under the larger man's weight, and fell backwards onto the floor. He let out a loud, "Oomph!" as Newkirk landed heavily on top of him.

"Carter!" Kinch yelled as he ran up and pulled Newkirk gently off of him, rolling the corporal onto his back. He looked at Carter worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Carter replied. As he sat up, he let out a groan, and grabbed his right arm. "Feels like I hit my elbow when I fell."

"Is it bad?" Kinch asked.

"No, it just smarts a little."

Kinch nodded, and then looked down at Newkirk and started to check him for injuries. Fortunately there didn't seem to be any, since Carter had broken his fall.

By now the whole barracks was awake. LeBeau came running over and reached down to help Carter up.

Kinch saw LeBeau and said, "Louis, when you're finished helping Carter, go get the Colonel."

"Oui, Kinch," LeBeau answered, "Come on, Carter, let's sit you over by the table."

Newkirk, who had been quiet since his fall from the top bunk, now started moaning and shaking his head slowly back and forth. Suddenly his arms flew up, and he started trying to push Kinch away, while yelling, "No, let me go! You can't take 'im…I won't let you…no, no, no!"

"Newkirk…Newkirk, wake up!" Kinch was shouting as he tried to grab the corporal's flailing arms.

"No! Where are you takin' 'im? What are you goin' to do to 'im?" Newkirk cried out as Kinch tried to pin him down.

LeBeau had finished getting Carter settled, and started to head for Hogan's quarters, when the colonel stepped out, and made his way quickly over to the commotion going on near Carter and Newkirk's bunks. He instantly noticed Newkirk lying on the floor, and Kinch struggling with him, trying to get him under control. It didn't take him more than a second to realize that Newkirk was having another dream. He kneeled down next to Newkirk and, grabbing for one of his arms, started to talk to him in a soothing voice.

"Newkirk, it's okay, you're at Stalag 13, nothing bad is happening to you, you need to wake up, no one's going to hurt you…"

Newkirk started to calm down as he listened to Hogan's voice. He slowly stopped struggling, and then at last opened his eyes and stared directly into Hogan's. He reached up and clamped his hand onto the colonel's arm, gripping it tightly. "'E's not goin' to take you…I won't let 'im…"

Hogan knew he was still in the grip of his nightmare. "Newkirk, it's me, Colonel Hogan. Don't worry, no one's taking me anywhere."

"No, I won't let 'im…I'll stop 'im this time…I'll…"

Hogan was beginning to get scared. "Newkirk, listen to me. You're safe now. You're back at camp. No one's going to hurt you, or me. Please, wake up!"

Newkirk blinked a few times, and his eyes started to focus. "Colonel?" he replied at last.

Hogan breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it's me, Newkirk."

Newkirk searched Hogan's eyes, as if looking for something. "'E took 'im away," he responded finally, a look of resignation on his face.

"Took who away?" Hogan asked.

"Dimitrov." Newkirk stated, as though Hogan should have known, "'E's comin' for me next." Then a sadness seemed to envelop him, and his eyes filled with despair.

"Shh, it's going to be okay," Hogan replied, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

Newkirk's eyes started to water. "No, it won't. It'll never be okay." Then he started sobbing, and Hogan looked at him, cursing the helplessness that he felt, wishing with all his heart that he could make the pain that Newkirk was experiencing go away, but feeling only anguish at the realization that there was nothing he could do.

* * *

Сумасшедший – Sumasshedshij – Crazy

Не знаю – Nye znayu – I don't know

Да – Da – Yes

Нет – Nyet – No

Здравствуйте – Zdravstvujtye – Hello

Очень хорошо – Ochen' khorosho – Very good.


	7. What happened to Dimitrov

WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic image that is alluded to at the end. While it doesn't contain any detailed descriptions of torture, I felt it was disturbing enough to include a warning.

* * *

For the next few minutes Hogan stayed by Newkirk's side, holding the corporal's hand as he watched the tears falling across his face. He'd never seen him like this; in fact, the Newkirk he knew would sooner die than be caught showing his emotions like this…and crying, no less! Hogan began to realize, now more than ever, that whatever happened to Newkirk was far more traumatic than he'd feared, judging by the way the Englishman was reacting to his nightmares. And this was only his third dream; how many more were there to come? How much worse was it going to get as he continued to remember?

As Newkirk's tears subsided, Hogan's attention shifted to the room, and he suddenly looked at Kinch. "Why is Newkirk on the floor?" He asked, as if just now becoming aware of it.

"He fell out of his bunk," Kinch said. Then, when he saw the alarm on Hogan's face, he quickly added, "He's okay, Colonel, he's not injured. Carter broke his fall."

Hogan swung his head to look at Carter, who was sitting by the table, his left hand cradling his right elbow. "Are you all right, Carter?" Hogan asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, Colonel," Carter reassured him, "I hit my elbow on the floor when I fell, but it doesn't hurt that bad. I can still move it, see?" He stretched out his arm and then bent it again, a slight grimace flashing across his face as he did so. "It's just a little sore, is all."

"Well, if it gets any worse, I'll have Wilson take a look. In fact, I may have him check it in the morning, anyway." Hogan glanced around the barracks. "In the meantime, I'd suggest everyone go back to bed." He looked once again at Carter. "Carter, if you can manage it, I think you'd better switch bunks with Newkirk for now."

"Oh sure, Colonel, no problem." Carter answered.

Hogan now turned his attention back to Newkirk, who was lying there quietly, staring blankly up at the ceiling, his hand still clamped firmly on Hogan's arm. Hogan felt the knot in his gut tighten when he saw Newkirk's expression, which was as empty as his stare. He reached over and started to shake the corporal's shoulder gently. "Newkirk?" he said quietly, and then a little louder, "Newkirk, I know you can hear me, you were just talking to me a few minutes ago! C'mon, Newkirk, look at me!" Hogan was starting to panic a little inside. _Oh, no you don't, Newkirk! You're not gonna shut down again!_

At last Newkirk's eyes started to focus, and he turned his head to look at Hogan, who breathed a huge sigh of relief, and said, "Hey, Newkirk, welcome back!"

"'Ave I been somewhere, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, looking confused.

Hogan smiled at him. "No, Newkirk; you've been right here the whole time."

Newkirk suddenly realized he was lying on the floor. "Blimey, what am I doin' down 'ere?" He started to sit up, and, noticing he had a death grip on the colonel's arm, released his hold and looked at Hogan with embarrassment.

Kinch, who was still crouched next to Newkirk, said, "Don't you remember falling out of your bunk, Newkirk?"

"I did?" Newkirk now sounded a little scared. It was bad enough he couldn't remember what happened to him at the SS facility, but now it appeared that he was starting to forget things that were happening to him in camp.

"Yeah, but I don't think you got hurt," Kinch told him, "You landed on top of Carter."

"What? Is 'e all right?" Newkirk glanced over at Carter's bunk, and when he didn't see him there, he looked back at Kinch and Hogan worriedly.

"He's fine, Newkirk," Hogan said, "He just bumped his elbow; nothing serious. But I told him to take your bunk for now, and you can use his. At least if you fall out of bed again, you won't have far to go."

Newkirk glanced back at his own bunk, and there was Carter, stretched out across the top of it, smiling at him. Carter gave him a little wave, and Newkirk smiled back at him, relieved.

"C'mon, Newkirk," Hogan grabbed his arm and started to help him up as he stood, "Let's get you off the floor." When Newkirk was on his feet, Hogan walked him the two steps to Carter's bunk, and let him take a seat. Then he turned to Kinch and told him to get some sleep, while flashing him a look that he knew Kinch would understand; _keep an eye on things, and come get me if anything happens. _He turned once more, and, seeing the worried expression that was now on Newkirk's face, he sat down next to him and asked him quietly, "What's wrong?"

"Colonel, I don't remember fallin' out o' me bunk," Newkirk answered, looking at Hogan with a hint of fear in his eyes.

"What do you remember, Newkirk?"

"Wakin' up on the floor just now, and you talkin' to me."

Hogan thought for a moment, and then said, "You were having a nightmare, that's why you fell out of bed."

Newkirk smirked at him. "I kind of figured that, sir," he replied.

Hogan grinned, then his expression grew serious again. "Do you remember what you were dreaming?"

Newkirk's brow furrowed as he tried to recall what he'd been dreaming about. "I remember someone…someone else in the cell…"

"You mentioned the name, 'Dimitrov'."

"Yeah, that's it, Dimitrov. 'E was in the cell with me and Yevgenij. There was somethin' wrong with 'im; I think 'e was ill. And then the major came and…" Newkirk suddenly sucked in his breath. "They took Dimitrov away, didn't they? Colonel, somethin' terrible 'appened to 'im…"

"What happened?"

Newkirk appeared to be concentrating hard. "I don't know," he said after a moment, "But it was bad, and I don't think I want to remember."

"That's okay, Newkirk. You don't have to remember. Why don't you lie down and get some rest? We can talk about it some other time."

Newkirk looked relieved. "All right, sir."

Hogan smiled at him, and then got up and headed for his quarters. Newkirk stretched out on Carter's bunk, and stared at the underside of the rack above him. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to get any more sleep that night.

* * * * * *

Hogan awoke the next morning, feeling more tired than he had when he went to bed. He hadn't gotten much sleep after what had happened to Newkirk; his thoughts wouldn't let him. He kept turning the incident over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all. How could Newkirk appear to wake up, have a conversation with him, become very upset, and then not remember? It must have something to do with him blanking out for a few minutes; that was the only logical answer. Maybe Newkirk's mind was doing it to protect him from the memories that were trying to force their way back to his consciousness through his dreams. At least Newkirk was able to recall some of it afterwards; although, that probably wasn't a good thing; not after what he'd heard him say.

Still, Hogan couldn't help trying to piece together what he knew so far. There had been at least two Russian prisoners in the cell with Newkirk; Yevgenij and Dimitrov. Apparently something had happened to Dimitrov, and he had been hauled away for…what? Newkirk had said something bad happened to him…perhaps he was tortured? And Newkirk had also mentioned a major…he must have been referring to the SS Major that's in charge of the facility…what was his name? Major Steiger, that was it. Something told him, deep down, that Major Steiger was at the root of Newkirk's problems.

As the day wore on, Hogan's thoughts were split between the mission they were preparing to undertake that night, and whether or not to bring Newkirk along. He'd been keeping his eye on the corporal, and he could tell that the looks of concern he was periodically throwing in Newkirk's direction were making him uncomfortable, but he didn't care…it was his job to worry. But, other than being a bit more quiet and subdued than usual, Newkirk seemed to be all right. None of the other guys had mentioned the corporal's emotional outburst from the night before to him; either, and he hoped it would stay that way. In the end he decided to include him in the mission; it was going to be a big job, and he needed all of his men on this one.

* * * * * *

After they were dismissed from evening roll call, Hogan and his crew got ready to head out. They changed into their black clothes, and smeared grease paint on their faces to complete the camouflage. As they gathered at the bottom of the emergency exit, Hogan took one last glance at his men and asked, "Is everyone all set?"

"We're ready, Colonel," Kinch replied, while the others nodded.

"Okay, let's go." Hogan went first, climbing up out of the hollowed-out tree stump at the top. LeBeau went next, followed by Carter, then Newkirk, and finally Kinch. As each man exited, he moved quickly to a large stand of trees nearby, which hid them from the camp's searchlights. When they were all there, Hogan motioned for them to move out.

They'd hardly gone a few feet, when Newkirk suddenly stopped in his tracks. Kinch, who was directly behind him, almost ran into him. He stopped and whispered loudly, "Hold up, fellas!"

The three men in front turned around, and Hogan came back to see what the problem was. As soon as he got a look at Newkirk, he had his answer. The corporal was shaking, and his eyes were wide with fear. He'd broken out in a sweat, and his breathing had become fast and shallow. "What's wrong, Newkirk?" Hogan asked, alarmed.

"I…don't feel so well, Colonel," Newkirk answered, trying to hold himself steady as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and now his arms were starting to feel numb.

"Let's get you back to camp," Hogan said and, grabbing one side while Kinch grabbed the other, led him back to the tree stump. He motioned for Carter and LeBeau to go first, then sent Newkirk down, and then Kinch, saving himself for last. When he reached the bottom, he grabbed hold of Newkirk again, and brought him to the main tunnel, where he sat him down on the bench by the wall. He turned to Carter and told him to get Wilson, then took a seat next to Newkirk, who looked like he was going to pass out.

Wilson showed up within minutes, and started to look Newkirk over. It didn't take him long to figure out what was wrong. He told the corporal that he was going to be just fine, and to relax, and take some nice, slow, deep breaths. Newkirk complied, and soon started to feel a little better. His heart slowed down, and the shaking began to subside, along with the dizziness. Wilson told him to keep it up, and then pulled Hogan aside.

"Is he all right?" Hogan asked worriedly once the two men had stepped to the other side of the tunnel.

"He's fine, Colonel," Wilson told him, "He seems pretty panicked over something, though."

"Panicked?" Hogan looked at him incredulously, "But, nothing happened out there! Why would he panic?"

"Colonel, you know as well as I do that sometimes, when a person goes through something extremely traumatic, the very thought of it happening again can cause them to panic."

"But why would he panic right after we left camp?"

"Well, he was picked up by the SS just outside of camp, wasn't he?"

Suddenly it made sense. And as Hogan now understood what Wilson was telling him, he understood something else as well. "I can't use him on any more missions, can I?"

Wilson shook his head. "Probably not, until he can overcome what happened to him...if he ever does."

Hogan sighed. "He's been having nightmares," he stated to the medic.

Wilson looked at him, surprised. "He has?"

Hogan nodded. "Yeah, and last night was the worst so far. He's starting to remember."

Wilson appeared to be contemplating. At last he said, "That could be a good thing, as long as his memories don't come back to him too fast. Just do me a favor and let me know if they start adversely affecting him."

Hogan smiled. "You'll be the first one I call."

"In the meantime, I'd say the best thing for him right now is rest."

"All right. Thanks, Wilson," Hogan replied.

"I keep telling you, Colonel, that's what I'm here for." Wilson grinned, and then went over to check on Newkirk. The corporal was doing much better, so he climbed up out of the tunnel, and headed back to his barracks.

Hogan walked back to where the Englishman was still sitting and asked, "How are you feeling, Newkirk?"

"Much better, sir," Newkirk answered, and then added in a quiet voice, "Colonel, I'm sorry I messed up the mission."

"That's okay, Newkirk, we'll get it tomorrow." Hogan smiled reassuringly at him. "Right now I want you to change out of your black clothes, and then go up to the barracks and get some rest." He looked at his watch, and then glanced around at the rest of his men. "In fact, I think that's good advice for all of us."

"Yes, sir," they replied, almost in unison. Hogan and his men changed back into their uniforms, then made their way to the ladder. Newkirk went first, climbing slowly up to the barracks above. Hogan followed, in case Newkirk needed a hand, and then the rest of the guys went up top to try to get some sleep.

Once the men emerged from the false-bottom bunk entrance, they crawled into their bunks, Newkirk once again using Carter's. As he curled up on the mattress, which was even lumpier than his own, he let out a huge yawn. He hadn't slept much after his dream the previous night, and that, on top of whatever had happened to him outside of camp, had left him feeling completely drained. He closed his eyes and, as he let himself drift away, a thought crept into his head that he'd been trying to avoid all day…what did happen to Dimitrov? Unfortunately, he was about to find out.

* * * * * *

_Newkirk and Yevgenij stared at the door for a few moments after Dimitrov had been hauled away through it, screaming. Finally Newkirk turned to look at the big Russian. "'E's not comin' back, is 'e?"_

_Yevgenij shook his head sadly. "Nyet, Pyotr, I think we see last of him."_

_A short time later the cell door opened, and the two guards entered with their guns drawn. One of them gestured to Newkirk and shouted, "You! Come with us, schnell!"_

_Newkirk shot a worried glance at Yevgenij, who returned it with one of his own. Then he raised his head and marched out of the room, determined to show no fear. The guards led him down the hall and turned right, then down a flight of stairs and along another hallway, stopping in front of a door marked 12A. The skinny guard opened the door and motioned for Newkirk to go in. _

_The first thing Newkirk noticed was the long table in the middle of the room. It looked like the kind he'd seen used in hospitals for examining patients, only this one had restraints attached to it, which were presently being used on the person lying on the table. He couldn't make out who it was because there was a light sheet covering him, but the person was alive, judging by the way the sheet rose and fell above his face._

_The skinny guard gave him a shove, and then Newkirk realized where they wanted him to go. The wall on the opposite side of the table had a set of shackles attached to it, the chains appearing to be anchored firmly to the wall. As soon as they got him there, the guards shoved him against the wall, and told him to raise his arms. Then they proceeded to clamp the manacles around his wrists. Newkirk noticed that his hands were just about level with his head. He gave the chains an experimental tug, and knew he wouldn't be going anywhere._

_Once the guards were finished, they left the room, cracking jokes with each other on the way. They shut the door, and now Newkirk found himself alone with the figure on the table. As he was debating whether or not to say something, the door opened again, and Major Steiger entered, wearing a white lab coat. He looked at Newkirk and smiled._

"_Ah, it looks like we are ready." He said as he closed the door. He walked around the table and came to stand directly in front of Newkirk. "I can't tell you how refreshing it is to have an Englander here. I've grown weary of these Russians; they're not very…civilized, are they?"_

"_More civilized than you'll ever be," Newkirk retorted._

_Steiger smiled. "You are a feisty one, aren't you? I think I'm going to enjoy our little chat today."_

_Newkirk thought he had a pretty good idea where this was going. "You'll get nothin' out of me," he replied defiantly._

_Steiger looked at him with amusement. "You think I'm going to torture you, don't you?" he said._

"_Why else would you 'ave me chained to the bloody wall?" _

_Steiger smiled wide. "My dear Corporal, I have no intention of torturing you. In fact, I won't even lay a hand on you."_

"_In that case, why don't you let me go, then?"_

"_Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that." Steiger turned and, as he spoke, started to pace the room slowly. "As I'm sure you are aware, I am required to extract as much information as I can from my prisoners. If you are unwilling to volunteer the information I ask for, then I am forced to use whatever means are necessary to obtain it. I've developed my own method of doing just that. It is somewhat…unconventional, but it has been producing remarkable results. _

"_Of course, that's not the only reason I use it. I was a doctor, you see, a surgeon working at one of our larger hospitals when the war began. I worked there for several years, until they discovered a rather high mortality rate among my patients in the O.R." He looked up as he turned the far corner of the room and smiled at Newkirk. "I have a tendency to get carried away."_

_Newkirk had a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach._

"_Fortunately for me," Steiger continued, "The SS decided they could use my skills. So they made me an officer, and put me in charge of this facility, with orders to interrogate the Russian flyers that are captured and brought here. They don't care how I do it, or what happens to my prisoners. So you see, it's a win-win situation. I get to do what I want, as long as they get what they want." Steiger walked back over and stood directly in front of Newkirk, staring intensely into his eyes. _

_Newkirk stared back, but he was finding it difficult to keep his gaze steady. Steiger's eyes had such an eerie quality about them…it was like looking into two tiny black holes that would suck out his very soul if he stared into them for too long._

"_Did you know a munitions dump exploded near the area where you were picked up last night?" Steiger calmly asked him._

"_It did?" Newkirk feigned innocence, but inside his fear was growing. _

"_Yes, it did," Steiger replied, "I don't suppose you had anything to do with it?" He stood there, staring at Newkirk for a few more moments. "No matter," he said finally, dropping his gaze and moving away from him. "I'm sure if you did have something to do with it, you'll be more than happy to tell me, once you see how I do things around here."_

_Suddenly a moan started emanating from the figure on the table. Steiger went over and grabbed the sheet that was covering it. "You might recognize who I have here," he said as he pulled the sheet off._

_Newkirk gasped…it was Dimitrov! "What are you plannin' on doin' with 'im?" he blurted out; worry etched in his voice._

_Steiger smiled. "That's up to you, isn't it? Are you sure you have nothing to tell me?"_

_Newkirk remained silent._

"_Very well." Steiger looked down at Dimitrov, whose shirt had been removed, and his arms and legs had been strapped securely to the table. The Major placed his hand on the Russian officer's cheek, giving it a few light taps. "Wake up, Lieutenant." Steiger called to him softly._

"_What did you do to 'im?" Newkirk asked, his worry turning quickly into fear. _

"_Oh, I had to drug him to calm him down. It looks like he's coming out of it now; though, doesn't it?"_

"_So, what's 'e doin' 'ere, then, if you're questionin' me?" Newkirk's fear was escalating; he'd already guessed what Steiger had planned._

_Steiger grinned. "Well, you see, I've already gotten all the information I need from him, and now he's going to help me extract information from you." He looked down at Dimitrov, whose eyes were open now, and growing wide with fear. "There were four other men from his crew that we captured; unfortunately, they've all since passed away, haven't they?" He was directing his question at Dimitrov. "You gave me what I needed, though. And now it's your turn."_

_Dimitrov obviously knew what the Major's intentions were. He started screaming and thrashing back and forth on the table. Newkirk had become terrified by now, and started to unconsciously pull on his chains. _

"_What are you goin' to do to 'im?" Newkirk shouted, his voice quivering._

"_What were you doing out where my men found you?" Steiger shot back._

_Newkirk glared at him, but remained silent._

_Steiger slowly smiled. "I like games; did you know that, Corporal Newkirk?" He pulled something out of his pocket and held it up in front of him._

_Newkirk suddenly felt a chill sweep over him, and his heart started pounding in terror._

_Dimitrov saw what the Major was holding, and his screams intensified._

_Steiger almost laughed as he positioned his hand over Dimitrov, the light from the ceiling reflecting off the scalpel that he was holding. "I think I'll show you my favorite game…I call it, 'Autopsy'."_

* * * * * *

Newkirk woke up screaming.


	8. A rude awakening

A/N: I didn't think this chapter needed a warning, although there is a little graphic imagery alluded to.

* * *

Hogan was exhausted; exhausted and worried, which seemed to be his permanent state of being, as of late. Newkirk's panicked reaction when they'd tried to leave camp had unnerved him, and now it appeared that the corporal wouldn't be able to go out on any missions. On top of that, he knew that London was going to be more than a little annoyed that they hadn't taken care of that weapons manufacturing plant yet. Of course, soothing London's ruffled feathers wouldn't be difficult; they'd just go out and destroy it tomorrow night, and he'd have Olsen fill in for Newkirk. But that was just a temporary fix; it still left the biggest question unanswered…what was he going to do about Newkirk? He let out a sigh, knowing that, once again, his own rest would elude him, his worries keeping him awake, leaving him even more tired the next day. But, despite his thoughts clomping around in his mind, pestering him as usual, he eventually did fall asleep; his brain had finally demanded it.

Sometime later, Hogan's eyes snapped open at the sound of screaming coming from the main barracks. He knew instantly who it was, and almost fell out of his own bunk in his effort to get to the floor quickly. As he tore out of his quarters, he saw Kinch trying to restrain Newkirk, who was thrashing wildly on Carter's bunk, crying out in terror. The radioman had successfully pinned Newkirk's arms, and was leaning over him, his face close to the corporal's, trying to calm him down.

"Peter, wake up, you're having a nightmare, it's okay, no one's gonna hurt you…wake up, Peter!"

Newkirk was struggling under Kinch's hold, trying to free his arms, shaking his head back and forth, and moaning, "No, no, no, no…NO!"

Hogan's glance landed briefly on Carter, who was standing near the bunk and staring wide-eyed at the scene before him, and shouted, "Carter, go get Wilson!"

Carter snapped out of his shock and, for the second time that night, took off to get the medic, calling out, "Yes, sir!" on the way.

Hogan leaned in next to Kinch, and started to talk to Newkirk in a soothing voice. "Newkirk, calm down, it's okay, you're just dreaming…"

"No, you can't, no, no, stop it, stop it, STOP IT!"

"Newkirk, listen to me, you're dreaming, no one's hurting you…"

"Why? Why are you doin' this? Why? Why?"

"Newkirk, wake up! Snap out of it!"

"No, no, no…Dimitrov…I…I'm sorry…oh, no, no," Newkirk finally started to calm down. He stopped fighting Kinch's hold on him, and slowly relaxed. Kinch let go and stood up to give Hogan room to sit down on the bunk. As soon as Hogan took a seat, Newkirk's hand once again reached out and clamped down on his arm, and his eyes flew open, boring straight into Hogan's, "'E killed 'im…that bloody Major…'e killed Dimitrov right in front of me…'e….'e…" As Newkirk's voice tapered off, the tears began to fall.

"What, Newkirk, what did he do?" Hogan asked, wanting desperately at this point to know what happened. But Newkirk just kept sobbing.

Just then the barracks door opened, and Carter came rushing in, followed by Wilson. The medic headed straight for Hogan and Newkirk, and squatted down next to the bunk. He looked at Newkirk, then up at Hogan and asked, "Another nightmare, Colonel?"

"Yeah, and this time he woke up screaming," Hogan informed him. He looked down at Newkirk, and to his dismay noticed that his face, not surprisingly, had become blank. He looked at Wilson worriedly. "He's out of it again."

"Again?" Wilson replied, "Has he done this after one of his dreams before?"

"Yeah, the one he had last night."

Wilson looked at him questioningly. "What did you do?"

Hogan shrugged. "I just started talking to him."

"Well, why don't you give it a try now?" Wilson told him.

Hogan nodded, and then leaned in and started talking. "Newkirk, you can wake up now. Whatever happened; it's over, understand? You need to come back…no one's gonna hurt you…Newkirk, Newkirk!" But Newkirk didn't respond. He looked at Wilson and said, "It's not working."

"You might have to give him some time, Colonel."

Hogan looked back at Newkirk. He reached down to remove the corporal's hand from his right forearm, but as soon as he began to pry Newkirk's fingers away, the Englishman started moaning and gripped his arm tighter. Looking once again at Wilson, he sighed and asked, "Now what?"

"Well, I could give him something to knock him out for awhile. It might help him to get some real sleep…and you could get your arm back."

Hogan looked at him, concerned. "What if he has another nightmare?"

"I don't think he will, Colonel, not with a sedative in him. Besides, he needs to sleep."

Hogan acquiesced. "All right, but I don't want to leave him out here." He turned to Kinch, who was standing a few feet away. "Kinch, help me get Newkirk into my quarters; I want to be able to keep an eye on him, myself."

Wilson gave Hogan a disapproving look. "Colonel, you need to sleep, too," he said, noticing the bags under Hogan's eyes.

"I'll sleep while Newkirk's sleeping, okay?" Hogan answered, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Okay, okay," Wilson backed down, "I know when to quit. You know, Colonel, you're too stubborn for your own good!"

Hogan flashed Wilson a small grin. "I could say the same thing about you, sergeant."

Wilson just smirked at him.

Hogan grew serious again. "Besides, I'm gonna need to be there when he wakes up." He looked down at his arm.

Wilson nodded. "That does seem to be the only way that he'll stay calm, doesn't it? I sure wish I knew what happened to him."

Hogan nodded in return, and then glanced at Newkirk. "Me, too."

Hogan motioned to Kinch that he was ready. Kinch picked Newkirk up and carried him into Hogan's quarters, laying him gently on the bottom bunk. Hogan stayed right by his side the whole way, since Newkirk's right hand had no intention of letting go of his arm. Once Newkirk was on the bunk, Hogan sat down on the edge of it, and again tried talking to him, but got no response. He looked up at Kinch and thanked him for his help, then told him to go get some rest. As soon as Kinch left, Wilson returned with something to put Newkirk to sleep. As the medicine took effect, Newkirk's eyes closed and he relaxed; his hand at last loosening its grip. Hogan pulled his arm away and rolled up his sleeve; he had bruises forming where Newkirk's hand had been clutching it.

Satisfied that Newkirk was asleep, Wilson bid Hogan goodnight, and left for his barracks. Hogan, feeling a sense of déjà-vu, hopped up onto his upper bunk and once again tried to get some sleep of his own. And once again, it eluded him.

* * * * * *

Soon enough, it was time to get up for roll call. As Hogan jumped down from his bunk, he first checked on Newkirk. The corporal was still asleep, and part of him hoped that Newkirk would wake up like he did the last time; back to his old self, even if it meant he had to repress the horrible memory that had caused his latest nightmare. He remembered what Newkirk had said to him just before he blanked out; the major had killed Dimitrov right in front of him. But why would that upset him this much? They'd all seen men get killed before; there was a war going on, after all. But there must have been something different about the way Dimitrov was killed. What could the major have done to cause such a reaction in Newkirk?

Hogan sighed, then got dressed and went out into the main barracks, where Schultz was already bellowing for everyone to go outside and line up. As soon as he caught the big German sergeant's eye, he motioned for him to come over. Schultz meandered his way through the crowd of men trying to exit the barracks, and stopped in front of Hogan.

"What is it, Colonel Hogan?" Schultz asked impatiently, "Everyone is supposed to be outside for roll call."

"Newkirk's not well, Schultz," Hogan said, glancing toward his quarters and then back at the sergeant, "And I don't want to leave him alone."

Schultz's eyes widened. "Oh, but you have to be outside for roll call; the Kommandant will be very angry if you are not there!"

"Just tell Klink if he really wants to see me, he can come to my quarters."

"But, Colonel Hogan…"

"I'm not leaving Newkirk!" Hogan shouted angrily, then, when he saw the surprised and hurt look on Schultz's face, he lowered his voice and said, "I'm sorry, Schultz, I'm just worried about him."

"What's wrong with him?" Schultz asked, concerned.

"Newkirk had a nightmare last night," Hogan told him. "I think it was about that SS facility where we picked him up. He's…not responding again."

Schultz's concern turned to worry. "Oh, Colonel Hogan, I hope he will be all right! I remember how he was when we found him…" His expression as he left his sentence unfinished spoke volumes.

Hogan gave him a slight nod in understanding. "Just tell Klink, okay, Schultz?"

Schultz nodded in return. "I will, Colonel Hogan. And when Newkirk wakes up, tell him that I hope he's feeling better."

Hogan gave the German guard a big smile. "I will, Schultz, and thanks."

As soon as Schultz left, Hogan went back to his quarters and, grabbing the chair near his desk, he pulled it over to the bunk. He heard a slight moan and whirled around to look at Newkirk, and sat down quickly on the chair. Newkirk's eyes were open, and they were staring straight up into space, but there was fear showing in them. His hand appeared to be searching for something, and Hogan grabbed it and brought it over to his left arm this time, letting the corporal latch on. Newkirk relaxed, his expression becoming empty again. Hogan just watched him, wondering what was going on in his mind behind that vacant stare; was he thinking, imagining…remembering? Or, was his mind as blank as his expression? Maybe it was protecting him by refusing to let him have any thoughts at all. He leaned in and started talking to him; hoping against hope that it would work this time. "Newkirk, it's time to wake up now…please, Newkirk, you have to come back to me…I can't lose you, not like this! C'mon Peter, look at me!"

* * * * * *

_Newkirk watched in horror the scene unfolding in front of him…Steiger's laughter as he went to work, drawing his scalpel over the body before him with precision, his lab coat quickly turning a deep, crimson red, Dimitrov's screams becoming more shrill, until they didn't even sound human anymore. Newkirk broke out in a cold sweat, his body started to shake uncontrollably and his heart was racing. He could feel himself trying to slip out of consciousness, but every time he felt himself on the verge of passing out, Steiger would wave smelling salts under his nose to revive him._

_It didn't take long for Dimitrov to die. In his weakened state, combined with the fear and pain he was experiencing, his heart gave out well before Steiger could inflict a lethal injury. Steiger finished what he'd started, making Newkirk watch, continuing to keep him conscious until even the smelling salts weren't working anymore. At last the guards were called, and they unchained Newkirk's wrists and dragged him out of the room and back to his cell. When they got him inside, they dumped him on the floor, and beat a hasty retreat at the angry glare that was emanating from Yevgenij's eyes. _

_Yevgenij knelt down next to Newkirk and started talking to him while reaching over to shake his shoulder. "Pyotr, are you okay? Can you hear me? Wake up, Angliskij."_

_Newkirk opened his eyes and saw Yevgenij leaning over him, a worried look on his face. He reached up and grabbed the Russian sergeant's arm. "Yevgenij…" he whispered, and then a little louder, "Yevgenij, Dimitrov, 'e...he's…"_

"_Is okay, Pyotr, I know, he is dead. Is what I expected." _

"_But…Steiger…'e killed him…and he made me watch…" Newkirk stared at him, the terror still fresh in his eyes._

_Yevgenij shook his head angrily. "I never understand men like him. I could tell from first moment I lay eyes on him, he was very bad man."_

"_I couldn't stop 'im…" Newkirk's eyes started to tear up._

"_Is not your fault, Pyotr. I told you he is sumasshedshij. There is nothing you could do, ponimaete?" _

"_But I could have talked…told 'im what 'e wanted to know…"_

"_Is that why he do it?" Yevgenij looked surprised for only a moment, then he leaned in and said to Newkirk, "Listen to me, Pyotr, a man like that; he would have killed Dimitrov anyway. Don't you tell him anything."_

_The pain in Newkirk's eyes radiated out to the Russian, as he replied, heartbroken, "I couldn't 'elp im."_

"_Nyet, you couldn't, Pyotr," Yevgenij replied, understanding. "But there is someone trying to help you, if you will let him."_

"_What…are you talkin' about?" Newkirk looked back at him, confused._

"_Is time for you to wake up, and let your friend help you."_

"_But, what about you, Yevgenij? What 'appens to you?"_

_Yevgenij smiled at him, but there was a sadness to it. "You find out when you're ready. In meantime, you have to wake up and look at me, Pyotr. Come on, Pyotr, look at me!"_

"C'mon, Peter, look at me!" Hogan repeated.

Newkirk's eyes suddenly shifted, looking directly into Hogan's. "Colonel?" He finally uttered.

"Newkirk!" Hogan exclaimed, relief flooding through him.

Newkirk continued to stare at his commanding officer. "I know what 'appened to Dimitrov," he said at last, his face expressing the pain of an emotional wound that would never heal.

"Can you tell me?" Hogan asked, wanting to know, but knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"It was Major Steiger, 'e…" Newkirk blinked a few times, and then paused for a moment to compose himself. He then proceeded to tell Hogan what Steiger did, leaving out the worst of the details that he couldn't bring himself to describe. When he was through, he noticed that Hogan had paled somewhat, and his eyes were wide with shock.

Hogan didn't say anything for a few moments, and then his shock and revulsion started to turn into anger; anger and hatred for this, Steiger, this devil in human disguise that could do something so horrific to another human being. He got up and went to the door of his quarters, and saw that the men were just coming back in from roll call. Schultz followed them in, and headed straight for Hogan. The sergeant informed him that Klink demanded to see him in his office right away. Hogan told Schultz he'd be right there, and practically pushed him out of the barracks. Then he looked at his men, and let them know that Newkirk was awake. He sent Carter and LeBeau to his quarters to take care of the corporal, and then, before he left for Klink's office, already trying to come up with his approach to appease the irate Colonel, he turned to Kinch, and told him to contact London, and tell them to find out everything they could about an SS Major named Steiger.

* * *

Английский – Angliskij – English

Нет – Nyet – No

Сумасшедший – Sumasshedshij – Crazy

(Вы) понимаете? – (Vy) ponimaete? – Do (you) understand?


	9. A bad joke

As Hogan was leaving the barracks, on his quest to placate Klink, LeBeau and Carter were hurrying into the Colonel's quarters. Upon entering, they noticed that Newkirk was alert and sitting up on the bunk with his feet on the floor. But his haunted expression caused the two men to stop in their tracks just inside the doorway. They'd never seen Newkirk look like that before.

They stood there, hesitating for a moment, and then LeBeau walked over to the chair that was still near the bunk and took a seat. He looked at his English friend and asked, "Hey, Newkirk, how are you feeling, mon ami?"

Newkirk turned his haunted gaze on LeBeau. "I'm all right, Louis," he replied quietly.

By that time Carter had stepped further into the room, and had decided to sit down on the bunk next to Newkirk. He looked at him with relief and said, "You had us pretty scared there, buddy, the way you woke up last night, and then you just seemed to be, well, out of it; almost like you were sleeping, only with your eyes open, you know?"

"I think he knows, Carter," LeBeau responded, annoyed.

LeBeau turned back to Newkirk. "So, what was it that you were dreaming, Pierre? Did you remember something else about that place you were at for three days?"

Newkirk looked at LeBeau and shook his head slowly. "Sorry, mate, I don't want to talk about it," his expression making it clear to the Frenchman not to press the issue.

Carter, on the other hand, had no qualms about pursuing it further. "Oh, but you _should _talk about it; get it out of your system…that's what my mom always told me. If you keep things bottled up, they'll just eat away at you, and…"

"Carter," Newkirk interrupted him, putting his hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.

Carter looked at Newkirk, expecting him to deliver one of his clever retorts, but the Englishman just stared at him for a moment. Finally Newkirk said, "Thanks, Andrew, but some things are better left alone."

* * * * * *

Across the compound, Hogan stood at the door to Klink's office, his hand on the doorknob, mentally steeling himself for the initial verbal onslaught that Klink was surely planning to subject him to. He knew he could handle him, but frankly, he was no mood to do so right now. After what Newkirk had told him about Major Steiger, his only thoughts were centered on what to do about that monster. But first, he had to pacify Klink, or he'd probably end up in the cooler for the rest of the war. He grabbed the knob, put his game face on, flung open the door, and barged into the office in his usual fashion.

"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?" Hogan asked innocently as he strode into the room, stopping in front of Klink's desk.

Klink, who had apparently been concentrating on the pile of paperwork that was cluttering the top of his desk, jerked his head up in surprise at Hogan's rude but all-too-familiar entrance. His startled reaction quickly changed to irritation as he stood up to confront the American Colonel. "Yes, Hogan," Klink began, "I would like to know why you felt you weren't required to show up for roll call this morning."

"Didn't Schultz give you my message?" Hogan quipped.

"This is not a joke, Colonel Hogan! I don't know where you think you are, but let me remind you that this is a prison camp, and you are a prisoner. You cannot skip roll call simply because one of your men isn't feeling well."

"No, you're right, Kommandant, this is no joke." Hogan's anger came rushing to the surface. He was about to tell Klink what Newkirk had been through, and just what he thought of the German Colonel at that moment, and of the entire German military in general; to allow a nut-job like Steiger carte blanche to carry out such atrocities, when he realized it wouldn't help the situation any. In fact, if he was going to do something about Steiger, the less Klink knew, the better. With supreme effort, he reigned in his anger and said, "You've got to do something about the food, Sir. I've been up with Corporal Newkirk half the night; he's suffering from food poisoning."

"Food poisoning?" Klink exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes, Sir, food poisoning. He's only just starting to feel better."

Klink looked skeptical. "Hogan, I find it hard to believe that it was food poisoning from the camp mess hall, if only one man was taken ill."

Hogan appeared to think it over. "Maybe it was that can of sardines, then, from his Red Cross package. They didn't look quite right to me."

Klink walked around his desk, coming up to stand directly in front of Hogan. He raised his hand and started to wave his index finger at him. "Hogan, I should have you thrown in the cooler right now!" Then he dropped his hand and gave the American Colonel a smug look. "But, being the generous man I am, I will let you off with a warning this time."

Hogan looked relieved. "That's very big of you, Sir."

"As long as you do something for me."

Hogan's look of relief quickly changed to suspicion. "What do you want, Kommandant?"

Klink smiled. "General Burkhalter is coming for a visit in two days, and I want your Frenchman to cook dinner for him."

"What?" Hogan exclaimed, "No way! I'm not asking LeBeau to cook dinner for you and General Burkhalter."

Klink smiled wider. "It's either that, or the cooler."

Hogan let out a big sigh. "What time do you need him, sir?"

Klink let out a laugh. "That's more like it, Hogan. Have him here by six o'clock."

"He'll be here." Hogan replied.

"But just remember, Hogan," Klink warned him, "This won't excuse you from future incidents like this one. Neither you nor your men are allowed to be absent from roll call for any reason, is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Hogan answered, properly chastised. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, yes, go on, Hogan," Klink dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Just see that it doesn't happen again."

Hogan left Klink's office as fast as he could and headed back to the barracks, angry now for having to provide LeBeau's services to entertain Burkhalter, and knowing that LeBeau wasn't going to be happy about it, either. But, at least his ruse had been successful. He had to admit; though, he found himself almost regretting having to deceive Klink; he knew the Kommandant was nothing like Steiger. In fact, Klink would have probably been sympathetic to Newkirk's plight. But he couldn't risk having his plans interfered with…once he'd made them, of course.

Hogan reached the barracks and went inside, walking quickly to his quarters. When he entered, he saw LeBeau and Carter sitting with Newkirk. The Corporal looked a little better, although there was something in his eyes, something that hadn't been there before, something that seemed to have taken up permanent residence, like a visible scar on his soul that he would no doubt carry with him for the rest of his life.

Hogan had barely entered the room when Kinch showed up with a message from London. They were very unhappy to hear that the weapons manufacturing plant was still up and running, and would like to know when Hogan could find the time to take care of it. They also passed along that they would see what they could find out about Major Steiger, and let Hogan know as soon as possible…once he took care of the plant. Hogan rolled his eyes and let his men know in no uncertain terms what he thought of London's message. Then he told them that they would go out that evening and take care of the plant, and Olsen would fill in for Newkirk. The Englishman objected, convinced he could handle it, but Hogan stood firm.

The day passed quickly enough, even though everyone seemed to be more subdued than usual. Newkirk was especially quiet; although, after what he'd been through, it was certainly understandable. Hogan tried to come up with some ideas for taking care of Steiger, but he knew he couldn't do much without more information on him, and of course, London's permission. So he spent most of the day worrying about their upcoming mission…and worrying about Newkirk.

That night, Hogan, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Olsen slipped out of camp, and soon after, the weapons manufacturing plant was no more. They returned safely, much to Newkirk's relief, who knew he wouldn't sleep until he'd found out the mission was a success and everyone made it back okay. They all headed off to bed, Newkirk taking Carter's bunk once again.

It took Newkirk a while to fall asleep; partly because his thoughts were keeping him up, and partly because he was afraid of what he might dream this time. He'd been pretty shaken up when he remembered what happened to Dimitrov…how could he ever have forgotten that in the first place? How could there be someone that evil, that sadistic, that crazy to do something like that? And how was he supposed to live with what he'd seen? But the biggest question that still plagued him was; why? Why did he have to remember, when now all he wanted to do was forget? What was that old saying? Oh, yeah,_ Ignorance is bliss_. Truer words were never spoken.

He did eventually fall asleep; he couldn't fight it any longer. And once again, he found himself back in the one place he would have been content to never have revisited.

* * * * * *

"_Pyotr, what you doing?" _

_Newkirk, who had been pacing nervously back and forth in the cell for the last few minutes, stopped and turned to look at Yevgenij. "Just tryin' to think of a way out of 'ere, mate. We've got to get out before…before 'e…"_

"_There is no way out, Pyotr," Yevgenij cut in, shaking his head. "I looked at room while you were gone."_

_Newkirk glanced down at the fresh pile of straw in the corner that the guards had deposited in the cell during his absence. "What if we start a fire," he said, sounding desperate, "Then, when they open the door, we could escape in the confusion!" _

"_Start fire with what? We have no matches. Besides, they wouldn't open door; knowing them, they would let us burn. Pyotr, I know you are worried, but you need to calm down. Why don't you come over and take seat?"_

"'_Ow am I supposed to calm down, Yevgenij? Don't you understand what's goin' to 'appen to us?"_

_Yevgenij slowly nodded. "Da, ya ponimayu. But what good is worry?" He thought for a moment and then said, "You need something to take mind off it, and I know just the thing. Come, sit down, is time for your next Russian lesson, tovarishch."_

"_What?" Newkirk exclaimed in disbelief. "'Ave you gone 'round the bend? You want to teach me Russian right now?"_

"_What better way to keep your mind busy?"_

"_Yevgenij…" Newkirk looked at him for a moment, then shook his head slightly and let out a big sigh. "All right, mate, you win." He went over and sat down opposite the Sergeant._

"_Nu, khorosho," Yevenij replied, a slight smile of victory appearing on his face. "How about we start with, 'Kak vy pozhivayetye?' That mean, 'How are you?'"_

"_Kak vy pozhi…pozhiv…"_

"_Kak vy pozh…i…__**va**__…yetye."_

"_Kak vwee pozh…i…__**va**__…ye…tye." _

"_Ochen' khorosho! You already know that mean, 'Very good'. Now say, 'Khorosho, spasibo', that mean, 'Good, thank you'."_

"_Khoro__**sho**__, spa…__**see…**__bo."_

"_See? Is easy!"_

Newkirk's dream faded out for a little while, and when it returned, it was a few hours later in the cell from where he'd left off.

"_Nyet, Pyotr, try again."_

"_Sad…__**i**__…tyes'."_

"_Again, only faster."_

"_Sadityes'."_

"_Nu, khorosho. Now try…"_

_Newkirk held up his hand. "Oh, that's it for me, mate; I need a break!"_

_Yevgenij chuckled. "All right, Pyotr, we take break. You worked hard." He leaned back against the wall and asked, "So, you have family back home?"_

_Newkirk smiled. "I've got a sister, Mavis, back in London. You?"_

"_Da, I show you," Yevgenij reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small photograph. He handed it to Newkirk. "This is picture of my wife, Tatiana, and daughter, Anna. Is been eight months since I see them. Anna is five years old now."_

_Newkirk looked at the worn photograph. Tatiana was a tall, attractive, strong-looking woman, with dark blonde hair and a care-worn face. She was definitely not a stranger to hard work, but there was a joy in her expression; a contentment with her life that showed through, even in the picture. Anna, their little girl, was the spit and image of her mother, except for her eyes; those were Yevgenij's. And she couldn't have been any cuter, with her long, white-blonde hair hanging down in pigtails. Their smiles radiated out from the photograph, and Newkirk couldn't help smiling back. He handed the photo back to Yevgenij and said, "That's a nice lookin' family you've got there, Yevgenij."_

"_Spasibo, tovarishch. I think so, also." Yevgenij looked intently at the picture for a moment, his eyes misting over just a little, and then he promptly put it back in his pocket and looked at Newkirk. "So what is like, being prisoner at POW camp?"_

_Newkirk grinned. "Well, it's no picnic, mind you, but we get by. As luck would 'ave it, we've got a good man in charge o' lookin' after us; an American colonel…Colonel Hogan."_

"_Ah, Amerikanyets…I have not met many. But I hear good things about them."_

"_Oh, he's the gov'nor, 'e is!" Newkirk replied with obvious admiration, "The best officer I've ever known, and I've known quite a few!"_

"_Sounds like good man," Yevgenij said, smiling, "Most ofitser I meet, they are more interested in one thing…how to become higher rank ofitser!"_

_Newkirk laughed. "You got that right, mate!" Then he grew serious. "But Colonel Hogan…he's not like that. 'E really cares about us…" his voice trailed off as a thought occurred to him; Hogan might be on his way right now to rescue him! Of course! He'd never let him get killed in some SS prison, would he? And if he got rescued, he knew that Hogan would rescue Yevgenij, as well. As Newkirk's hope soared anew, he opened his mouth to tell Yevgenij the good news, when the cell door opened, and the two guards entered, followed by none other than Major Steiger. _

"_I thought you two might be getting hungry," Steiger announced as he motioned the guards to come forward, holding out the bowls that were in their hands. The older guard held his out to Yevgenij, who hesitated to take it._

"_Ugh, if this is same as breakfast, I think I go on hunger strike now!" Yevgenij exclaimed._

_Steiger smiled. "Oh, it's not so bad, Sergeant Ivanov. Something tells me, you'll eat anything."_

_Yevgenij glared at the major, and refused to take the bowl. _

"_No matter," Steiger replied, "If you want to starve, be my guest." Then he turned his attention to Newkirk. "So, my English Corporal, you didn't have much to say to me earlier, did you?"_

_Newkirk could feel his heart starting to race, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I told you already, I've got nothin' to say to you."_

_Steiger stared at him with an unreadable expression. "I did some checking on Stalag 13, and it turns out your prison camp is under suspicion for being the center of some of the local sabotage activity in the area."_

_Newkirk's heart skipped a beat, and he fought to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Major. Stalag 13 is just a prison camp."_

"_Perhaps. In any case, I have an appointment with a Major Hochstetter tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I suggest you get your rest. I have a feeling you will need it."_

_Newkirk just glared at him._

_Steiger started to leave, and then turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said cordially, "I brought something special, just for you." He looked at the skinny guard who was holding the other bowl, and waved his hand at him to give it to Newkirk._

_The guard held it out, and Newkirk reluctantly took it. It had a cover on it, and when he removed it, he gasped in horror, and threw the bowl and its contents against the far wall. _

_Steiger laughed at his reaction, and said, "You don't like it? I just wanted to 'lend you a hand' as they say!"_

_Yevgenij saw what had been in the bowl when it landed on the floor, and his anger and revulsion provoked him to respond. "Why you do this?" he exclaimed, and then he suddenly stepped up to Major Steiger and grabbed his shirt collar. "WHY YOU DO THIS?" he yelled into the Major's face. _

_Steiger turned his head and shouted, "Guard!" The older one came forward and, turning his rifle around, rammed the butt end of it hard into Yevgenij's side. The Russian let go of Steiger, and took a few steps back, clutching his side. _

_Steiger's face was red with fury. "You'll pay for that, Sergeant!" he hissed at Yevgenij, his eyes shooting daggers at him. Then he turned and stormed out of the cell, the guards following quickly behind._

_When they'd gone, Newkirk walked over to Yevgenij and put his hand on the Russian's arm. "Are you all right, mate?" he asked him, concerned._

_Yevgenij nodded. "Da, it take more than that to hurt big man like me!" he answered, although he winced a little when Newkirk helped him to sit down. _

_Newkirk sat on the floor in front of the Russian sergeant and looked at him with admiration. "That was a brave thing you did, Yevgenij." _

"_Nyet, Pyotr," Yevgenij shook his head. "That was stupid thing I did. But he make me so angry…" He looked down and realized his hands were balled into tight fists. As he relaxed them, stretching out his fingers, he said, "He will think of something very bad to do to me now, ya dumayu, and I have pretty good idea what." And then a grim determination took over his face. "But I won't go down without fight!"_

"_You might not 'ave to, mate," Newkirk replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially, his expression now radiating hope, "There's a good chance we'll be out of 'ere soon."_

_Yevgenij looked at him curiously. "What you mean?"_

_Newkirk debated what to tell the big Russian. He couldn't expose their operation to him; not just to protect himself and the men at Stalag 13, but for Yevgenij's protection as well. "Let's just say I 'ave some contacts," he finally responded, "And they'll rescue us from 'ere as soon as they can."_

"_Is that so?" Yevgenij said, his eyes widening in surprise, "If that true, you are new best friend!" Then he smiled, but it quickly faded. "I hope they come soon; before sumasshedshij major come back."_

"_I 'ope so, too, mate," Newkirk replied._

A bright flash of lightening suddenly lit up the barracks, followed by a loud clap of thunder that reverberated throughout the large room. Newkirk's eyes flew open, and he found himself wide awake, staring at the bottom of his upper bunk. He wondered briefly if he had been making noise in his sleep this time, but if he had, the storm had probably drowned it out. He could remember his dream quite vividly, unfortunately, and it filled him with a sense of dread. He knew the worst was yet to come; he could feel it, but he had no idea what it could be, only that he wasn't looking forward to finding out. As he lay there, he contemplated whether or not to tell Hogan in the morning what he'd dreamed. In the end he decided not to; he didn't think the Colonel needed to know.

* * *

Товарищ – Tovarishch – Comrade

Уа понимаю. – Ya ponimayu. – I understand.

Ну, хорошо. – Nu, khorosho – Well, good.

Как вы поживаете? – Kak vy pozhivayetye? – How are you?

Очень хорошо. – Ochen' khorosho. – Very good.

Хорошо, срасибо. – Khorosho, spasibo. – Good, thank you.

Садитесь – Sadityes' – Sit down.

Американец – Amerikanyets – American

Офицер – Ofitser – Officer

Уа думаю. – Ya dumayu – I think (so).

Сумасшедший – Sumasshedshij – Crazy


	10. Reconsiderations

Newkirk didn't get much more sleep for the rest of the night. He lay there listening to the storm as it slowly moved on; watching as the lightening flashes became less bright, hearing the thunder grow more distant. He dozed off for a little while here and there, but didn't stay asleep for long; his mind was too busy sifting through the memories that had come back to him so far, and still trying to figure out a way to cope with what he'd seen Major Steiger do to Dimitrov.

And now his latest dream had shown just how twisted Steiger was. Again he wondered if he should tell Hogan…no, he couldn't bring himself to tell him about that; the colonel had enough to worry about. So, Steiger had said he had an appointment with Major Hochstetter…did he actually meet with the Gestapo officer? If he had, then why hadn't Hochstetter shown up at camp by now? If Steiger had made Hochstetter suspicious, the Gestapo Major would have certainly found a way to involve himself. But even more importantly, what did Steiger learn from Hochstetter, and did he use it to try to get more information out of him? He must not have told him anything, or the SS Major would have never have let him go. Which led to the biggest question; why _had_ Steiger let him go? He didn't seem like the type of guy to give up easily. Was it only because General Burkhalter had ordered him to? That's what Hogan had told him. He let out a sigh as he thought about it; it just didn't make any sense.

Of course, none of this explained why he had panicked when he'd tried to leave camp the other night. But that was before he'd remembered about…Dimitrov. Now that it had come back to him, maybe he could try to go out again. He'd attempted to talk Hogan into letting him go on the mission last night, but the Colonel wouldn't even consider it. But Hogan would have to let him try eventually. After all, what good was he to Hogan and the rest of the men, not to mention the operation, if he couldn't go on any more missions?

And Hogan; he seemed very determined to go after Steiger, didn't he? He couldn't blame the colonel; he'd like to get his hands on the Major, himself. But as sweet as it sounded to exact revenge on Steiger, deep down he was terrified of the man. Even just hearing his name sent a chill through him, and he could feel a lump form in the pit of his stomach. If he had to confront him, could he actually do what was necessary? And that's what scared him the most; for the first time, he was doubting himself. Oh, he'd certainly known fear; he'd felt it on almost every mission they'd undertaken, at least to some degree, but he always had confidence that he could do what needed to be done. But where Steiger was concerned…he just didn't know.

One thing he was sure of; however, was that he wasn't going to tell the others about Dimitrov. For one, he couldn't bear to talk about it again, and for another, seeing Hogan's expression when he'd described what happened; well, he just didn't want to see that look on anyone else's face.

As that last thought was still echoing in his head, he heard someone stirring, and looked over to see LeBeau sitting up in his bunk, getting ready to jump down and begin his morning routine, which consisted of starting the coffee and letting everyone know that it was time to get up. He inwardly smiled, _Louis's a bloomin' alarm clock, isn't 'e? 'E always wakes up right before roll call!_

LeBeau got dressed and started to make his rounds, waking everyone up before Schultz came barging through the door. As he approached Carter's bunk that Newkirk was occupying for the time being, he instantly noticed the Englishman was already awake. He leaned over him and, with a smile forming on his face, said, "Hey, it looks like you made it through the night, Newkirk. No nightmare this time?"

Newkirk smiled back. "No nightmare, Louis," he lied.

* * * * * *

After roll call, Hogan sent Kinch down to the tunnel to find out if London had any information for him yet regarding Steiger. Then he told Newkirk he wanted to talk to him in his office. Newkirk entered and took a seat on the bottom bunk, while Hogan turned his chair and sat down facing him.

Hogan just looked at him for a moment, and then asked, "Newkirk, how are you holding up?"

"I'm all right, Colonel," Newkirk replied, wishing he could get Hogan to stop worrying about him so much.

Hogan could see how tired Newkirk was. "You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

"I told you, I'm all right," Newkirk repeated, starting to sound frustrated.

Hogan wasn't convinced, but he decided to drop it for now, and get to the point. "I hate to ask you this, Newkirk, but I need you to tell me everything you can remember about Major Steiger."

"Still plannin' to sort 'im out, are you, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, already knowing the answer.

"After what you told me, I think someone needs to," Hogan answered.

"'E's a dangerous man, Colonel. 'E even had a meetin' with Hochstetter…"

"What?" Hogan exclaimed, cutting him off, "You never told me that!"

_Oops! _"Didn't I, gov'nor? Must be because I only just remembered it last night…I've been meanin' to tell you…"

"Newkirk," Hogan now sounded annoyed, "What did I tell you about keeping me informed of what you're dreaming?"

"Sorry, Sir," Newkirk uttered, casting his eyes downward.

Hogan sighed. "It's all right," he replied, a little more sympathetically, "Why don't you tell me now."

Newkirk filled Hogan in on what he had dreamed the previous night, leaving out the 'gift' that Steiger had brought for him. When he finished, he noticed that Hogan looked lost in thought.

"So," Hogan said finally, "Steiger met with Hochstetter…"

"I don't know that for sure, Colonel, only that 'e 'ad an appointment with 'im."

"Then why hasn't Hochstetter shown up by now?" Hogan continued, as if he hadn't heard Newkirk's latest statement. "He'd never put up with someone else questioning one of us; he'd want to do that himself."

"I was thinkin' the same thing, meself," Newkirk said. "That's why I don't see 'ow he could 'ave 'ad a meetin' with 'im. But I just don't remember; not yet, anyway. I'm sorry, Colonel."

"It's okay, Newkirk," Hogan told him, "You could be right. Maybe he was just making that up to get you to talk." He appeared to be thinking it over. "It sure would help to know, though. I wonder if there's any way we…"

Just then there was a knock on the door, and after Hogan called out, "Come in," Kinch opened it, and entered Hogan's office.

"Message from London, Colonel," Kinch said, holding out a piece of paper.

Hogan took the note paper and began to read through it. "Looks like this Major Steiger was a doctor for quite a few years, until his patients started dying mysteriously…he's also got some important connections with some of the top brass of the SS…he's not considered a threat to our operation at this time, and…what? Oh, they can't be serious!" Hogan exclaimed angrily.

"What, Colonel?" Newkirk asked.

"London says we're supposed to leave him alone; we're not allowed to get rid of him!"

Kinch nodded. "They seemed pretty adamant about it when they sent the message, Colonel."

"Well, if they think I'm just gonna let this guy off the hook after what he did…"

"Colonel?" Newkirk interrupted him.

Hogan stopped in mid-sentence and turned to look at him.

"Maybe London's right."

Hogan couldn't have looked more shocked. "What?" he blurted out.

"I mean, I don't think 'e knows about our operation, and 'e 'asn't done anythin' that could expose us…"

Hogan's eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. "Newkirk, what are you saying? That we should just let this…this monster continue to do what he's been doing? I'd think you'd be jumping at the chance to get rid of him!"

"I am, Colonel," Newkirk replied, "But I don't think it'll be that easy…he's pretty clever, you know, and besides, we couldn't just go in to that place and take 'im out…there's guards everywhere, and…"

Hogan couldn't believe what he was hearing, not from Newkirk. He'd never seen his English corporal balk at something like this, not when it was so personal. But then, he'd never seen Newkirk go through anything like this before…Newkirk was afraid, wasn't he? No, not afraid; he was terrified.

"Newkirk," Hogan cut in, "You don't have to come with us. I can take the other fellas and we can get rid of this guy once and for all."

"What if you don't? What if 'e gets a hold of you? What if 'e…'e…." Newkirk looked at him, pleading with his eyes for Hogan to let it go.

"Colonel," Kinch, who had been standing there the whole time, now piped up, "It would be kind of hard to get to Steiger; that facility he's at sounds pretty well guarded."

What was going on? Hogan looked from Kinch to Newkirk and back again. Could they both actually be trying to talk him out of it? Newkirk, he could understand at this point, but, Kinch? Unless it was because London had said no; maybe he didn't feel right going against their orders. Or maybe he was concerned about Newkirk's reaction; he knew Kinch could see how distressed the corporal was over the whole idea. Or could it be just what the radioman had said; that he thought it would be too difficult and dangerous? Oh, he knew Kinch would obey whatever decision he made, but that didn't stop the sergeant from voicing his opinion when he felt it was the wrong one. Hogan just inwardly shook his head; he'd never in a million years expected to encounter this much resistance for taking out someone as sick as Steiger.

"You're probably right, Kinch," Hogan finally said, "I'll have to give it some thought." He noticed Newkirk visibly relax at his statement.

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, also noticeably relieved. "Oh, and Colonel? I just remembered, I got a message from the Underground; there are two prisoners that escaped from Stalag 16 last night, and they're on their way here. I've got the coordinates where to pick them up. Who do you want to send?"

Hogan didn't take long to answer. "Carter and LeBeau can go out and meet them."

"Colonel?" Newkirk spoke up. When Hogan turned to look at him, he said, "I'd like to go with them."

"Newkirk," Hogan was already shaking his head, "I can't let you go out there and start panicking again."

"About that, sir," Newkirk started to plead his case, "You've got to let me try, or I'll never get over it, right? I mean, what good am I to you or anyone else 'ere if I can't leave the camp?"

"Newkirk…"

"Please, Colonel, I'm sure I can 'andle it this time. And if not, Carter and LeBeau can bring me right back." Newkirk's face took on a look of determination. "I've got to know if I can do it!"

Despite his better judgment, Hogan gave in. "All right, you can go. But I'm coming, too. That way if you need help, I can take care of it, and LeBeau and Carter can still get to the rendezvous point on time."

Newkirk smiled, "Fair enough. And thanks, gov'nor."

"You're welcome," Hogan smiled back.

* * * * * *

Later that afternoon, Hogan, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau headed for the emergency exit, on their way to go meet up with the two escaping prisoners. After they climbed out of the hollow tree stump, Newkirk noticed that Hogan was hovering next to him, watching him with a concerned expression. He inwardly sighed. _Blimey! I better not panic this time, or the gov'nor'll never leave me alone! _As they started to make their way into the woods, Newkirk felt some anxiety creeping in, but was determined not to let it stop him. They pressed on, and soon the anxiety decreased, until it was just the normal tension that he always felt while out on a mission. Before too long they arrived at the rendezvous point, and hunkered down to wait for the two men they were there to pick up.

"Hey, Newkirk," Carter whispered to him from his position on the corporal's left, "You made it!"

"Oui, mon ami," LeBeau said quietly, crouching next to Carter, "You didn't have any trouble this time."

"No," Hogan whispered loudly from Newkirk's right, "But we will, if you guys don't pipe down!"

"Sorry, Colonel," They both muttered.

Just then the two escapees showed up, and were a little surprised to see a total of four men there to meet them; one of them a Colonel, no less! They got over their initial shock quickly; however, and the group headed back to Stalag 13. When they arrived, Kinch was glad to see they'd made it back safely, and was happy to learn that Newkirk hadn't had any problems. He hoped that meant that Newkirk was feeling better.

That night, after lights out, Newkirk stretched out on Carter's bunk and thought briefly that perhaps the worst was over, that maybe the feeling he'd had last night was wrong, that maybe nothing else happened at that SS facility, and he could get back to normal now and put the whole sordid mess behind him. He shifted a little to get more comfortable, and moments later, fell fast asleep; his exhaustion finally catching up with him.

* * * * * *

_Newkirk woke up to the sound of the cell door opening on this, his second morning as a prisoner of the SS. He saw the guards enter, once again bringing bowls, presumably containing their breakfast. The older guard set his down in front of Yevgenij, who appeared to be sleeping. The skinny guard set his in front of Newkirk and smiled at him with amusement. Then they both turned and left, much to Newkirk's relief._

_Once the door had shut, Yevgenij opened his eyes. "Are they gone?" He asked Newkirk._

"_They're gone, mate," Newkirk told him._

"_Good." He sat up and looked at the bowl. "I think I like being hungry now," he said, pushing it away._

_Newkirk could barely even look at the bowl near him. He glanced over to the far wall, where the contents of Steiger's joke still lay on the floor. Yevgenij had mercifully covered it with hay before they'd lain down to try and get some sleep, but he knew it was still there. He didn't think he'd ever be able to eat again._

Newkirk's dream drifted in and out, touching on moments here and there from his second day in the cell. Yevgenij had spent more time teaching him Russian, and they'd made the usual small talk, but both of them were thinking the same thing; when were they going to get out of there?

Newkirk's dream intensified once more, and this time, it lingered.

"_Looks like is getting dark, Pyotr," Yevgenij said, noticing the light fading outside the window. "You think your friends will come soon? I hate to spend another night here."_

"_I don't know, Yevgenij," Newkirk answered, "I thought they'd 'ave come by now." He was getting worried, where was the Colonel?_

_Just then the door slammed open, and the guards entered with their rifles at the ready, followed by Major Steiger. The Major signaled to the older one to keep his gun trained on Yevgenij, while he walked over to stand in front of Newkirk. _

"_Corporal Newkirk," Steiger said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "I trust your day went as well as mine."_

_Newkirk just glared at him._

_Steiger moved a little closer, causing Newkirk to take a few steps backwards until his back was against the wall. Steiger noticed the fear in Newkirk's eyes, and smiled. "I thought you'd like to know how my meeting with Major Hochstetter went." He continued in that sickening voice._

"_Not particularly," Newkirk replied, feeling his heart starting to quicken._

_Steiger chuckled. "He has amassed a great deal of information about Stalag 13, you know. Why, he even knows who you are!" He saw something flash across Newkirk's eyes, and added, "Oh, you needn't worry; I didn't tell him that I was holding you here. I simply told him I was doing some research on the local POW camps." Then he moved a little closer, his face getting uncomfortably too close for Newkirk's liking. "Besides, he doesn't seem very concerned about you; he's mostly interested in your senior POW officer there; I believe his name is Colonel Hogan." Steiger stared intently at Newkirk to gage his reaction._

_Newkirk tensed, but remained silent._

"_Tell me, Corporal Newkirk, what do you think your Colonel Hogan would think of my interrogation techniques?"_

_Newkirk's eyes widened, and then he spat out in anger, "If you lay one 'and on him, I'll…" _

_Steiger cut him off with a loud laugh. "Such loyalty!" he exclaimed. "I find that so rarely these days." Then he once again stared intensely into Newkirk's eyes. "Don't worry, I have no plans to go after your precious Colonel. Not when I have you…"_

_Newkirk thought he was going to be sick._

"_So, is there anything you would like to tell me?" Steiger asked sweetly._

"_Yeah, drop dead." Newkirk retorted._

"_Sounds like good idea to me!" Yevgenij yelled out from behind Steiger._

_Steiger whirled around. "That's enough out of you!" he shouted, and then grew calm. "I have something planned for you in the morning, Sergeant Ivanov; something special. And I think I'll invite your English friend here to watch." He walked to the cell door and motioned to the guards to follow. As he exited, he turned back for a moment and smiled first at Yevgenij, and then at Newkirk. "Sweet dreams!" he called out, and then was gone._

"Newkirk…Newkirk wake up," LeBeau whispered loudly as he shook the Englishman's shoulder. "You're having another nightmare!"

Newkirk opened his eyes. He was breathing heavily, covered in sweat, and he could feel his heart racing. He looked up and saw LeBeau leaning over him with a concerned look on his face.

"Newkirk, are you okay?" LeBeau asked him worriedly.

"Somethin' is goin' to 'appen, isn't it?" Newkirk replied, sounding scared.

"What, Newkirk? What's going to happen?" LeBeau was becoming a little scared, himself.

"Yevgenij…somethin' 'appens to 'im…somethin' bad…"

LeBeau sat down on the edge of the bunk. "Listen to me, Pierre, whatever happened, it's over now. I know you are afraid, but you can get through this. You are strong, and you have friends here to help you; you just have to let us."

Newkirk searched LeBeau's eyes, and as he calmed down, he slowly nodded. "I know, Louis," he said quietly, "And thanks, I know I'll be all right, as long as I've got me mates."

LeBeau smiled at him, his eyes telling him more than words could ever say. He gave Newkirk's arm a pat, and said, "Well, it's a good thing you're awake now, because it's almost time for roll call."

Newkirk smiled back, and then replied, "Already? Feels like I just went to sleep!"

* * * * * *

The morning passed quickly, and the afternoon was upon them before they knew it. LeBeau headed over to start the preparations for the dinner he'd been 'volunteered' to make for Colonel Klink and General Burkhalter.

Hogan was still debating whether or not he should go after Steiger. Maybe if he could convince London that the SS Major was somehow a threat to their operation, they'd give him the go-ahead. Of course, he _could_ do it anyway; with or without their permission. As he was turning it over in his mind for the umpteenth time, Carter announced that General Burkhalter's car had just entered the gate. Hogan signaled Kinch and Newkirk to join him in his quarters, while Carter kept watch at the barracks door.

Kinch had just finished setting up the coffee pot when Carter appeared, telling them that Burkhalter had brought someone with them. Just then they heard Klink's office door open through the receiver, and leaned in to listen.

"General Burkhalter!" Klink jumped to his feet. "What a pleasant surprise; you're early! And I see you've brought a guest with you."

"Yes, Klink, I have," Burkhalter answered. "Major, this is Colonel Klink, the Kommandant of Stalag 13." He waved his hand in Klink's direction. "Klink, I would like you to meet Major Steiger."


	11. A visit from Major Steiger

A/N: Once again, I would like to thank you all so much for your reviews! I also wanted to mention that any connection I've written between Major Steiger and a real person from history is purely fictional.

* * *

Hogan couldn't have looked more surprised. "Major Steiger? What's he doing here?" he exclaimed to the room at large, and then stopped to listen when he heard Klink's voice coming through the receiver in the coffee pot.

_"Ah, Major Steiger, it's a pleasure to meet you," _Klink was saying_, "Any friend of General Burkhalter is a friend of mine_!" _He let out a small, nervous laugh. _

"_The pleasure is all mine, Colonel Klink_," _Steiger replied courteously._

"_Major Steiger was interested in visiting Stalag 13_," _Burkhalter_ _stated_, "So _I decided to bring him with me…at the request of Reichsfuhrer Himmler."_

"_Yes, I know Heinrich well; his wife and I are old friends," Steiger replied._

When Hogan heard that, he muttered, "Well, that explains London's response."

"_Steiger, Steiger…"_ Klink repeated, and Hogan could imagine the expression on the Kommandant's face as Klink was no doubt thinking furiously, _"Your name sounds familiar to me…"_

"_I had one of your prisoners at my facility for a few days," Steiger reminded him, "I believe it was almost two weeks ago."_

"_Of course, I remember now!" Klink exclaimed._

"_Klink," Burkhalter cut in, "The major is not here for a social visit. He is doing some research on the Stalag Luft in the area; for a…book, did you say?" _

"_That's correct, Herr General," Steiger answered. "I am a doctor, you see, and have been for many years. I know everything there is to know about human anatomy. But, over the past year or so, I have developed an acute interest in psychology; particularly as it relates to prisoners of war. I would be honored if you would allow me the opportunity to talk to some of the prisoners here."_

_There was a pause, and then Klink said, "Certainly, Major! I would be more than happy to show you around the camp, just let me get my coat, and…"_

"_If you don't mind, Colonel Klink," Steiger interrupted, "I would prefer to look around by myself. The prisoners might be more agreeable to conversing with me on a more one-to-one basis."_

"_Whatever you say, Major Steiger, but I think you __should at least have one of my guards accompany you."_

"_That would be fine." Steiger responded._

As Klink called for Schultz to escort Steiger around the camp, Hogan leaned back slightly from the coffee pot that he'd been listening to so intently. "How do you like that?" He exclaimed angrily, while jerking the plug out of the pot and slamming it onto his desk.

"What do you suppose his real reason for being here is, Colonel?" Kinch asked as he stowed the coffee pot in its usual hiding place.

Hogan let out a huge sigh. "I don't know, Kinch, but I've got a pretty good guess. Newkirk?" He glanced around the room, and noticed that Newkirk had retreated to the corner near the window. The corporal had his back up against the wall, and his eyes were as wide as saucers…and filled with terror.

Kinch and Carter saw Newkirk at the same instant Hogan did. Hogan got up from his chair and started to approach the corporal slowly, while talking to him in a soothing voice, "Newkirk, it's okay, I don't know what that slime ball Steiger is doing here, but I'm not gonna let him hurt you…"

If it were possible, Newkirk's eyes would have grown even wider as Hogan came near him. But they weren't looking at him; they were looking at something else, something beyond Hogan, something beyond even the room itself…

"_So, is now third morning we wake up here, Pyotr," Yevgenij announced, watching Newkirk pace nervously back and forth in the cell, "Are you sure friends are coming?"_

"_They should 'ave been 'ere by now, mate," Newkirk answered as he rounded the far corner, "I don't know what's keepin' 'em…" _

_Suddenly the cell door burst open, and the two guards entered, once again followed by Steiger. The Major glanced at Yevgenij, and then looked at Newkirk and said, "I'm very sorry, Corporal Newkirk, but I'm afraid I will have to deprive you of your Russian friend's company for a little while." Then Steiger smiled, "But don't worry, you will see him again soon." Satisfied with the terrified expression he saw on Newkirk's face, he let out a chuckle, and then turned and left._

"No," Newkirk muttered quietly, and then he started to shake his head back and forth, while his voice steadily became louder, until he was practically shouting, "No, no, no, NO!"

Hogan was inching steadily closer, still trying to calm Newkirk down. "Newkirk, listen to me! It's Hogan, you're safe, it's all right…" _Of all the times for Newkirk to lose it! _

Suddenly the door to Hogan's quarters burst open, and Schultz stood in the entrance. "Colonel Hogan, everyone from barracks two has been ordered to line up outside immediately."

Hogan whirled around to look at Schultz. "What for? We already had roll call this afternoon."

Schultz sighed. "It's for an SS officer, a Major Steiger. He wants to talk to all of the prisoners from barracks two. Please, Colonel Hogan, you and the rest of the men have to line up outside right away!"

"All right, Schultz," Hogan told him, "We'll be right out." Schultz hesitated in the doorway until Hogan added, "I promise!"

After Schultz left, Hogan looked at Kinch and Carter. "You two go on, I'll help Newkirk."

"But, Colonel," Kinch replied.

Hogan took a step toward the door, attempting to lead Kinch and Carter out of his quarters, when he felt a hand grab his upper arm tightly from behind. He turned to look, and, sure enough, it was Newkirk.

_After the Major had gone, the skinny guard raised his rifle and pointed it at Yevgenij, while the older one grabbed the Sergeant's arms and pulled them behind his back, slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. As they were about to leave, Newkirk walked up and clamped his hands around Yevgenij's arm, and started to pull him back farther into the cell, shouting, "No, you can't, you can't take 'im…no, no!"_

"No, you can't, you can't take 'im…no, no!" Newkirk shouted, looking next to Hogan, as if someone was attempting to pull the Colonel away.

"Newkirk, we have to go outside now," Hogan tried to explain. He motioned to Kinch, who came over and reached up to remove Newkirk's hand off of the Colonel's arm. But Newkirk just gripped it tighter, and threw his other hand around Hogan's upper arm, tugging at him forcefully.

_The two German guards looked at Newkirk with amusement. Then the older one reached up and began to pry the Englishman's fingers off of Yevgenij's arm, but Newkirk just wrapped his hands tighter around the Russian's bicep, yelling, "No, you can't! You can't take 'im, I won't let you! No, no, NO!"_

"No, you can't! You can't take 'im, I won't let you! No, no, NO!"

Hogan looked at Kinch and, almost imperceptibly, shrugged his shoulders. Then he said, "Kinch, you and Carter go out and line up with the rest of the men. I'll stay here with Newkirk."

"But, Colonel," again Kinch started to protest.

"Just do it!" Hogan replied, exasperated

Kinch and Carter left Hogan's quarters, and headed out to line up outside the barracks. Hogan turned his attention to Newkirk, and started to talk to him in a soothing voice, "Relax, Newkirk, no one is taking me, or you, anywhere. Everything's all right, you just need to calm down…"

_The skinny guard stepped up to help the older one, and, with both of them working on it, they were able to peel Newkirk's hands away from Yevgenij. Then the skinny guard shoved Newkirk backwards, and pointed his rifle at him. The older guard grabbed Yevgenij and started to drag him out of the cell, followed by his counterpart, who kept his gun trained on Newkirk. But before they left, Yevgenij glanced at his English cellmate, and called out, "Don't worry, Pyotr, I am strong. I can survive whatever sumasshedshij major has planned."_

"_No, mate, you can't. Not this." Newkirk responded quietly as the cell door closed behind them. He knew just what those plans of the major's were._

"Can't what, Newkirk?" Hogan asked, desperately hoping that the corporal was coming out of it. "C'mon, Peter, talk to me!"

Just then the door flew open, and Hogan turned to see who it was, but not before noticing the fresh look of terror emanating from Newkirk's eyes. He saw an SS Major standing in his doorway, and he knew instantly that it was Steiger. Hogan immediately went on the offensive. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?" He snapped.

Steiger's face lit up, and he smiled wide. "Ah, you must be Colonel Hogan," he replied coolly. "Please, forgive my intrusion. Let me introduce myself, I am Major Steiger of the SS. I was hoping to meet you outside, but you didn't line up with the rest of the prisoners. So I took the liberty of visiting you in here; I hope you don't mind." He glanced around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Newkirk. "And you have my favorite English corporal here with you, I see."

Hogan decided to cut to the chase. "All right, Major, what do you want?"

"Tsk, tsk, Corporal Newkirk doesn't look at all well, does he?" Steiger said, as if he hadn't heard Hogan.

"Yeah, and I bet you can tell me why that is," Hogan responded, his voice taking on an accusatory tone.

"My dear Colonel, you don't think I had anything to do with the corporal's condition, do you? Why, I wouldn't harm a hair on his head."

Hogan had had enough. "Look, Major, I already know what kind of sick, twisted games you like to play, so why don't you tell me what you're doing here, and save the act for someone who'll buy it."

Steiger's smile faded, and his eyes grew a bit darker. "All right, Colonel, have it your way. I didn't get to finish with your Englander, there," he nodded his head in Newkirk's direction, "So I'm going to persuade your Kommandant, and General Burkhalter, of course," he rolled his eyes when he mentioned the General, "To let me take Corporal Newkirk back to my facility, as a subject for, 'psychological testing', you might say." Then he smiled again, only this time the malevolence emanating from it was almost palpable. "And I think I'll request to bring you along. You might find my technique…interesting."

Hogan's eyes narrowed. "I think you'll find my technique even more interesting…Major." He glared at Steiger with so much anger and hatred, that the SS major's smile actually faltered for a moment.

But Steiger recovered quickly, and replied calmly, "If it's a test of wills that you are looking for, Colonel, I'm afraid you've already lost."

Hogan continued to stare unwaveringly at him. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

Steiger once again smiled warmly. "Yes, we will. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some requests to make." He turned and left without waiting for a response from Hogan.

Hogan stood there, positively livid, entertaining several scenarios that had popped into his mind on how to get rid of that sicko permanently, when he felt Newkirk's grip on his arm relax, and then let go. As he was turning to see what was going on, he heard a thud, and instantly realized that Newkirk had passed out. He knelt down next to the corporal and tried to rouse him; shaking his shoulder and saying loudly, "Newkirk, wake up, you've gotta get up now." He reached up and tapped Newkirk's cheek. "C'mon, Peter, open your eyes!"

When Hogan didn't get a response, he let out a huge sigh and, knowing that the floor was no place to leave him, he shoved his arms underneath Newkirk and, with all the strength he could muster, lifted him up and carried him over to his bottom bunk, laying him down as gently as possible. Then he took a seat on the edge of the bunk and grabbed Newkirk's hand with both of his own, squeezing it gently while talking to him. "Newkirk, please wake up…you've gotta stop doing this!"

Just then his door opened again, and for a brief moment Hogan thought about requesting a lock for it, when he saw Kinch and Carter enter. The two men took one look at Newkirk on Hogan's bunk, and stopped in their tracks. Kinch was the first one to speak. "Colonel, what happened?"

"Is Newkirk okay?" Carter asked worriedly.

"I think so," Hogan answered, "Newkirk passed out after that devil Steiger visited me."

"Well, that devil just went into Klink's office, sir," Kinch informed him.

"Better plug in the coffee pot then, Kinch," Hogan said, "I know what he's after, I just hope he doesn't get it."

Once the coffee pot was plugged in, they heard Steiger's voice loud and clear.

"…_So you see, General, these men would be perfect for my research; in fact, I can take them right away…I have room for them at my facility."_

"_But you have your own prisoners of war there; the Russian flyers that you are assigned to interrogate." _They heard Burkhalter answe_r, "I still don't understand why you want Colonel Hogan and Corporal Newkirk."_

Even through the receiver, they could hear Steiger sigh, _"General, I already explained…"_

"_No, major," Burkhalter cut him off, "That's not good enough. Colonel Hogan is an important prisoner, not to mention the Senior POW of the camp. I see no reason to turn him over to you for your research, when you have more than enough subjects at your disposal."_

Kinch smiled. "Way to go, Burkhalter!"

"_Very well, General,"_ they could hear the disappointment in Steiger's voice, _"At least let me take Corporal Newkirk."_

There was a pause, and the men in Hogan's quarters collectively held their breath. At last they heard Burkhalter reply, _"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Major; he is a prisoner of Stalag 13, and as such, is under the jurisdiction of the Luftwaffe. Besides, you had him for three days; if you had any questions for him, you should have asked him then." _

"_But, General…"_

"_I said no!"_ Burkhalter was beginning to sound annoyed.

"_Yes, General,"_ Steiger replied unhappily, and then, from the sound of it, stormed out of Klink's office.

Hogan smiled; he never thought he'd owe one to Burkhalter! Then he told Kinch to put away the coffee pot, and sent Carter to watch at the door, unsure of what Steiger's next move would be. Carter returned in a few minutes, and informed them that the SS major had apparently come out of Klink's office, and headed straight for the car. He'd then had words with Burkhalter's driver, after which he got into the car, and they left. Hogan was relieved, although he knew they hadn't seen the last of that creep. Then he told Kinch and Carter to go check on LeBeau, who was still over in the kitchen preparing dinner, while he would sit with Newkirk and try to get him to wake up. As the two men left, Hogan turned his attention to Newkirk and looked at him sadly, wondering how long it was going to take Newkirk to wake up this time…if he was going to wake up at all.

* * * * * *

_Newkirk was once again pacing back and forth in the cell, trying to think of some way to save Yevgenij, and get them both out of there. But he knew there was nothing he could do on his own. 'Blimey, Colonel, where the bloody 'ell are you? I need you…we need you now, gov'nor.'_

_As he was making his pass around the far corner for the thousandth time, the cell door opened and the two guards entered, motioning to him to come with them. Newkirk reluctantly followed, knowing he didn't have much of a choice. _

_They led him through the hall and to the stairway, then down to the lower floor and along the hallway; stopping once again at the door marked, 12A. As he entered, he noticed the long table in the middle of the room, only this time the figure strapped to it wasn't covered. It was Yevgenij, and he appeared to be asleep…drugged, no doubt. _

"_No," Newkirk uttered, moving towards the table. But the guards grabbed him by his arms and hauled him over to the wall, chaining him up like the last time. Then they smiled at him and left, chuckling to each other._

_As soon as they'd gone, Newkirk called out, "Yevgenij, wake up, mate, Yevgenij…you 'ave to wake up now; you've got to try to free yourself…"_

_The door opened just then, and Steiger entered, wearing another white lab coat. He looked up and smiled at Newkirk. "Ah, I see we are ready to begin. I'm so glad you could join me; I knew you would be most interested in what I have planned for this morning." _

_With all the courage he could muster, Newkirk said, "Look, if it's me you want, then you can 'ave me. Just let Yevgenij go."_

_Steiger walked up and stood directly in front of Newkirk, that horrible smile still plastered across his face. "Do you know why I'm so fond of you, Corporal Newkirk?" he asked, his sickeningly sweet tone making Newkirk's stomach turn._

"_I'm sure you're goin' to tell me," Newkirk replied sarcastically._

_Steiger leaned in until his face was mere inches from Newkirk's, who couldn't pull away, as he already had his head up against the wall. The major stared into Newkirk's eyes and whispered, "It's because you care too much." Steiger searched the corporal's eyes for a moment, and then leaned back. "Now, is there something you would like to tell me? About what goes on in your camp, perhaps?" He stepped back, turned, and walked over to the table, then spun back around to face him, "Or about your Colonel Hogan?" _

"_I already told you, there's nothin' goin' on at Stalag 13!" Newkirk shouted angrily, "And you've got no bloody business with Colonel Hogan!"_

"_There, there," Steiger mockingly consoled him, "I didn't mean to upset you. In fact, may I let you in on a little secret?"_

_Newkirk glared at him._

"_I believe you, Corporal, about the camp," Steiger said, "To be honest, the whole thing sounds too far-fetched to me. And Major Hochstetter! His obvious obsession with your Colonel, and the fictitious goings-on at Stalag 13 is rather unhealthy, don't you agree?"_

"_Then why am I 'ere?" Newkirk asked suspiciously._

"_For my game!" Steiger exclaimed gleefully. "I thought you would have realized that by now."_

_Newkirk felt his chest tighten. "Your game?" he uttered quietly._

"_Yes, you remember! My favorite game…but, it's no fun without an audience, I'm afraid. And you, my English corporal, are so perfect for that role." Steiger now walked around to the other side of the table and looked down at Yevgenij. He reached up and tapped the sergeant's cheek several times, calling out, "It's time to wake up, Ivanov, I've got something planned for you…"_

_Newkirk's terror slammed into him full force as he suddenly realized that Steiger was completely insane; the man was doing this for fun! And now he realized something else; there was nothing he could do to talk him into letting Yevgenij go, was there? How could he reason with insanity? _

_Yevgenij now began to stir, much to Steiger's delight. "Ah, there you are, Sergeant Ivanov! I just knew you would want to be awake for this!"_

_Yevgenij blinked a few times, and looked up at Steiger in confusion. "What…where…where am I?"_

"_You're right where I want you to be," Steiger replied, stroking Yevgenij's cheek a few times. "And look, your friend is here, too!" He smiled and looked up at Newkirk._

_Yevgenij looked in the same direction, and saw Newkirk chained to the wall. "What? What are you doing to Pyotr?" Then he looked back at Steiger, "Let him go!" he shouted._

"_In due time," Steiger answered, and then started to reach into his pocket._

_Newkirk's eyes widened in horror, and he jerked his arms, trying to free himself from the chains that were holding him. "No, let him go, Steiger, please, don't do this, no, no, NO!"_

_Yevgenij looked at Newkirk and, upon seeing his face, realized at last that he might not survive Steiger's plan, after all. He looked back up at the major, who had pulled something out of his pocket, and was holding it up in front of him. _

_Yevgenij's eyes narrowed, and he said with a strength that Steiger would never have, "You are very sick man, and you will burn in hell. I only hope you suffer as much as the people you killed."_

_Steiger's happy expression faltered for only a moment. Then he looked condescendingly at Yevgenij and said, "You needn't worry about me, Sergeant Ivanov. You are the one who's going to suffer now."_

_Yevgenij saw the expression on Steiger's face, and then turned his head to look at Newkirk one last time. There was a light radiating from the big Russian's eyes, an intensity born from the knowledge that he was not long for this world._

"_Nye skazhitye, Pyotr; don't say anything. I will see you again…mate."_

"_Nooo!" Newkirk wailed, sagging against his chains._

_Major Steiger smiled wide. Then he lifted his scalpel and brought it down on the Russian Sergeant._

_It took a long time for him to die, the Major deliberately going slow; drawing it out as long as possible. By the time it was finished, Newkirk's mind had folded in on itself, leaving him barely conscious. When he was finally taken back to his cell, he walked unsteadily over to the wall and sat down, pressing his back against it and curling his knees up to his chest. He stared, unseeing, out into the cell, and let his mind slip away. But he could still hear Yevgenij's screams echoing in his head, and it didn't stop for a long, long, time._

* * *

Сумасшедший -- Sumasshedshij -- Crazy

Не скажите -- Nye skazhitye -- Don't speak


	12. Taking action

A/N: Warning: the end of this chapter has some graphic description. Not a lot, but I thought it was enough for a warning.

* * *

Time seemed to slow down for Hogan once Steiger left. The afternoon dragged on into evening, and still there was no response from Newkirk. Wilson had been by earlier, having been alerted by Olsen, whom he'd sent to fetch the medic. But Wilson had just shaken his head and informed him that there was nothing he could do at this point…except to wait.

Hogan stayed in his quarters with Newkirk; dividing his time between sitting with the corporal and talking to him, trying to wake him up, and pacing back and forth in the small room, wondering what he was going to do if Newkirk didn't snap out of it.

At least there had been no nightly roll call; thanks to Klink's little dinner party with Burkhalter. LeBeau had prepared an exceptional meal for the two German officers, and they had lingered over it for hours in Klink's quarters, causing the Kommandant to order Schultz to just conduct a head count.

After Burkhalter finally left, LeBeau returned to the barracks, along with Kinch and Carter, who had helped the Frenchman with the clean-up. Hogan heard a knock on his door a few minutes before lights out, and, since he was in his pacing mode, went to answer it. Kinch stood there, a concerned look on his face, and Hogan motioned for him to enter. The sergeant stepped into Hogan's quarters, and his gaze fell immediately to Newkirk, who still lay on the bunk, his eyes closed, appearing to be fast asleep.

Kinch turned his head to look at Hogan. "How's he doing, Colonel?" he asked quietly.

"No change, Kinch," Hogan answered, and then sighed.

Kinch couldn't help noticing how exhausted Hogan looked. He had circles under his eyes, and there was nothing but worry emanating from them. "Colonel, why don't you get some sleep?" he suggested.

Hogan smiled at him. "Thanks Kinch, but I'm going to stay with Newkirk for now. If I need a break later, I'll come and get you."

"You know, sir, you could probably climb up to your own bunk, and get some rest while he's sleeping."

"I'd rather stay close; I think someone should be with him when he wakes up."

I'll sit with Newkirk for a while," Kinch offered.

Hogan patted Kinch's arm. "Maybe later," he told him.

Kinch knew it was pointless to argue. "All right, sir, but if you change your mind, any one of us would be willing to take over."

"I know," Hogan replied.

Just then they heard Schultz's voice booming from the door to the outer barracks, informing the prisoners inside that it was time for lights out. Hogan nodded towards his own door, and said, "Go get some sleep, Kinch. I'll come and get you when I need you."

"Yes, sir," Kinch responded, knowing that Hogan had no intention of getting him up.

After Kinch left, Hogan pulled his chair closer to the bottom bunk and sat down next to it, once again picking up the Englishman's hand and holding it between his own. He leaned in and started to talk to him quietly. "Newkirk, you've got to wake up…whatever that monster put you through, it's over now; he can't hurt you anymore. But you've got to wake up and deal with it…you're strong; I know you can do it! And I'll help you…we'll all help you…just please, please, come back!"

* * * * * *

Several hours later, Hogan awoke with a start; something had just landed on his arm. He quickly sat up from the slouched position he found himself in after falling asleep in the chair, and looked down; noticing that Newkirk's hand had latched onto his arm again. Only this time it wasn't the death grip that he'd used previously, it seemed more like the corporal was trying to get his attention. As he moved his eyes up to Newkirk's face, he heard a familiar voice call out quietly, "Colonel?"

When Hogan's gaze met Newkirk's, he saw a pair of green eyes looking at him, and even in the darkened room he could see that they were clear and lucid. He suddenly let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and smiled with relief. "Newkirk, you're awake!"

"Yes, sir, I'm awake," Newkirk answered, but there was something in his voice; a deep sadness that caught Hogan's attention.

"Are you all right?" Hogan asked with concern, his smile fading.

Newkirk stared at him for a moment, and then said, "Colonel…I remember everythin' now…I remember what 'appened to Yevgenij."

Newkirk proceeded to tell Hogan about his last day at the facility; what Steiger did, what he said…and how Yevgenij died. As he talked, Hogan could see that the corporal was fighting to hold back the tears, but a few got through, trickling down the sides of his face. When Newkirk had finished, he looked at Hogan with the most despondent expression the Colonel had ever seen, and asked, "Why didn't you come, Colonel? We could 'ave saved 'im…I told 'im someone was coming to get us out of there…we waited and waited, but you never came."

A lump suddenly formed in Hogan's gut as Newkirk's words hit him. He leaned back a little, stunned, and exclaimed, "But, we didn't know where you were! I came to get you as soon as we found out…"

"I know, Colonel," Newkirk responded softly, "But you came too late. I told Yevgenij you would come…I gave 'im hope…I was so sure you'd reach us in time…and now he's gone, and I couldn't save 'im…" he trailed off, his voice filled with guilt and despair.

Hogan swallowed hard. "Newkirk, I'm sorry, I wish we'd found you sooner…don't you think I would have rescued both of you if I could?"

Newkirk nodded slightly. "I know you would 'ave, Colonel, I don't blame you. But I promised 'im, didn't I? But it was too late…" Then he released his hold on Hogan's arm and turned his face toward the wall.

An incredible sense of guilt descended on Hogan, and he felt his own eyes threatening to water. How could he have failed Newkirk like this? How could he have let Newkirk go through this, this, living nightmare? How could he have gotten there too late to save Yevgenij? If only he could have found out where Newkirk was being held sooner, if only they could have gotten to him in time, if only his English corporal – his friend – hadn't been forced to watch his Russian cellmate murdered in such a horrific way…if only there was some way he could set things right.

And then he felt his rage surge up through him, his raw hatred of the demon that was the cause of so much misery and horror, and at that instant he knew what he had to do. He got up from his chair and padded quietly out to the main barracks room, stopping at Kinch's bunk. He woke the sergeant, and told him that he had a message for the Underground that he wanted sent right away. He had a plan to set in motion, and he was going to need their help. As he explained it to Kinch, the sergeant asked if he should inform London, to which Hogan shook his head and told him it wasn't necessary; he was going to do this anyway…with or without their permission

* * * * *

The next morning after roll call, Hogan ushered his men into his quarters to fill them in. "All right, fellas," he began, "We're going after Steiger."

LeBeau's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious, mon Colonel!" he protested.

"Yeah, Colonel," Carter added, "That place is pretty well-guarded, from what Newkirk told us."

Hogan nodded. "I know, that's why I'm going in as an SS officer who is there to conduct a surprise inspection. Carter, LeBeau," he looked at the two men who were standing near the door, "You'll be the SS guards that accompany me. While we're inspecting the building, we'll toss a few smoke bombs around, and once we yell, 'Fire!' the guards will run outside…and straight into a few dozen or so armed men from the Underground. The men will get the SS guards' weapons from them, and hold them until we finish."

"Finish, sir?" Carter asked, "What are we gonna be doing in there?"

"We're gonna get the keys from one of the guards, and we're gonna release all the Russian prisoners that are being held there," Hogan answered him, "Then you and LeBeau will lead them outside, where some additional men will be waiting to help get them back to Russia. They're even gonna have a guy with them who speaks Russian, and can translate."

LeBeau looked at him, confused. "Colonel, you said Carter and I will be leading the prisoners out. What will you be doing?"

Hogan's face darkened. "I'll be going after Steiger," he stated with a grim look of determination on his face, "And as soon as he's taken care of, we'll torch the place."

"And the SS guards that are outside?" LeBeau reminded him.

"They'll be tied up and left there. I'm sure one of them will eventually free himself and the others, but by then we'll be long gone." When Hogan finished, he appeared satisfied as he saw Carter and LeBeau nodding in agreement; it just might work.

"Just one thing, Colonel," Newkirk, who had been sitting on the bottom bunk listening quietly, now spoke up, "Where am I in this plan of yours?"

"Back here at camp," Hogan informed him, "Helping Kinch monitor the radio."

"Kinch doesn't need my 'elp, sir," Newkirk said, "I want to go with you."

Hogan shook his head. "No, Newkirk, not with everything you've been through; it's too dangerous. Besides," he added, "There's no telling how you'd react seeing the place again."

"Colonel," Newkirk looked at him, a determined expression on his face, "I can 'andle it. This is my fight, more than yours. You 'ave to let me go; I need to do this…for Yevgenij."

Hogan stared at Newkirk for a moment or two, searching his eyes, and recognized the old, familiar strength and resolve that the corporal had been missing since the dreams had started. Finally he asked, "You sure you can handle it?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied unwaveringly, "I'm sure."

"All right, Newkirk," Hogan acquiesced, "You can be another SS guard accompanying me for the 'inspection'."

"Hey, that'll be great, Newkirk!" Carter suddenly blurted out, "Since you speak Russian, you can help us get the prisoners out of there!"

Newkirk smiled at Carter and said, "Sorry, mate, but _I'm_ goin' after Steiger."

"No, you're not!" Hogan exclaimed, "_I'm_ gonna take care of him."

"Colonel…" Newkirk replied, looking at Hogan.

"If you want to come on this mission, Newkirk, that's the way it's gonna be, and that's final," Hogan stated, staring back as a brief battle of wills ensued.

In the end Newkirk relented, and with a sigh, uttered, "Yes, sir."

Hogan didn't like to shoot him down like that, but he'd convinced himself that Steiger was his responsibility. "Besides, Newkirk," Hogan told him, "Carter's right. You'd be a big help getting the Russian prisoners out of there."

Newkirk nodded. "Then that's what I'll do, sir."

* * * * * *

Later that evening, after dinner, Hogan and his men went down into the tunnel to get ready; they had to hit the facility before Steiger left for the night. After they donned their respective SS uniforms, they moved down the tunnel toward the emergency exit, and, when they'd all emerged safely from the hollow tree stump, they headed out.

Newkirk initially felt himself starting to panic a little once they'd left the safety of the camp, but he took a few deep breaths, and the anxiety subsided. They weaved their way through the forest, finding it a much shorter route than following the road. When they neared their destination, they were met by a crowd of Underground agents, eager to help them with the task at hand. They'd all heard enough rumors about what Steiger did at that facility to want to see him put out of business.

Hogan quickly briefed the men, and then he, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau headed for the building, which was just beyond the clearing in front of the edge of the trees where the group was gathered. Newkirk once again began to feel uneasy, but he pushed it aside, determined to face his fears.

They walked up the steps and through the front door, and straight up to the front desk, where Hogan introduced himself as Major Hoganmeyer. He then bellowed at the guards to come to attention and informed them that he was there to conduct an inspection, and were all the guards as sloppy as they were? Then he demanded a set of keys, in case he wanted to inspect some of the cells, and stormed off, his own three 'guards' following closely behind.

Newkirk had hung back a little during the exchange between Hogan and the guards, not wanting them to recognize him, although he'd disguised himself well enough that there was little chance of that happening.

When they'd left the front entrance, Hogan and his men moved methodically through the long hallways, noting that each of them apparently had two guards assigned to them, and there were cells on either side. As they passed by, 'Major Hoganmeyer' stopped to inspect the guards, and then he and his 'guards' moved on. When they reached the end of the last hall, Hogan shouted to the guards there that they were needed up front. The two guards weren't about to disobey an SS Major, and immediately took off. Once they were out of sight, Hogan and his men pulled the smoke bombs they were carrying out from under their coats. They tossed a few out, and then moved farther up the hall and tossed a few more. As the smoke began to grow thicker, they started yelling, "Fire! Fire!" getting the guards' attention in the adjacent hall who, upon seeing the smoke, ran off toward the exit.

When the guards were gone, Hogan sent Carter and Newkirk back down the hall to start letting the Russian prisoners out. The two men ran back and began to open each cell as quickly as possible. Some of the cells were empty, but the rest had one or two occupants. The prisoners were scared when they saw the uniforms that Carter and Newkirk were wearing, but once Newkirk explained in basic Russian who they were and that they were setting them free, the prisoners exited the cells as fast as they could. As luck would have it, the fourth cell they opened had a Russian flyer who spoke English, which sped up the communication dramatically.

Meanwhile, Hogan and LeBeau were working their way closer to the main entrance, tossing more smoke bombs, causing the guards to take off running. When it looked like they'd all gone out of the building, including the two from the front desk, they raced back to see how Newkirk and Carter were doing. The two in question were just finishing up the second hallway, and had already freed quite a few prisoners. Hogan then asked Newkirk which way to Steiger's 'torture room', convinced he would find the Major there, and as soon as the corporal gave him directions, he was off, leaving his three men in charge of getting the rest of the Russian prisoners out of there.

Hogan found the stairs easily enough, and, after climbing down to the lower level, hurried through the hall, stopping in front of the door marked, '12A'. He stood there for only a moment, and then heaved a sigh, grabbed the knob, and swung open the door, mentally steeling himself for what he might find.

But the sight that met his eyes caused him to stop in his tracks, gasping in horror. There, splayed out on the table in the middle of the room, was what was left of a man who had more or less been gutted. Most of his insides were gone, and there was blood covering the table, as well as pooling on the floor underneath it. As Hogan stood there, staring at the grisly scene in utter shock, he suddenly heard the click of a safety catch on a gun being released directly behind his head, and Major Steiger's unmistakable voice saying, "What can I do for you, Colonel Hogan?"


	13. The final confrontation

_As Hogan stood there, staring at the grisly scene in utter shock, he suddenly heard the click of a safety catch on a gun being released directly behind his head, and Major Steiger's unmistakable voice saying, "What can I do for you, Colonel Hogan?"_

* * * * * *

It took Hogan a few moments to answer; his mind still reeling from the sight in front of him. Finally he pulled himself together and said, "You can take that gun away from the back of my head, for starters."

Steiger chuckled. "If you don't want it pointed at your head, you can turn around and I'll point it at your chest. Will that suit you, Colonel Hogan?" Then he gave Hogan a shove forward and barked, "Turn around! And put your hands up where I can see them!"

Hogan complied, raising his hands and turning around slowly. Steiger approached him and, keeping his gun leveled at Hogan's chest, reached in and patted Hogan's coat pockets. The right one held the gun that the Colonel had brought with him, and Hogan mentally kicked himself for not drawing it before entering the room; he hadn't expected to find Steiger armed, and lying in wait for him.

Steiger pulled the gun out of Hogan's pocket and slipped it into his own. Then he motioned for Hogan to back up against the wall.

* * * * * *

Newkirk was still helping Carter and LeBeau release the prisoners from the cells, systematically working their way through the hallways and opening every door as quickly as possible. The crowd of Russian flyers was growing, but order was being held, thanks in large part to Lieutenant Sokolov, the man they had freed earlier who spoke English.

They had finished three hallways already, and were starting on the next one, when Newkirk grabbed LeBeau's arm and said to him, "You and Carter keep clearin' these blokes out of 'ere, I'm goin' to see if the Colonel needs my 'elp."

LeBeau shook his head. "You're supposed to stay with us, Newkirk," he replied, "We need you to translate, remember?"

"You don't need me, you've got Sokolov," Newkirk told him, "And besides, what if the Colonel's in trouble? Someone needs to check up on 'im."

After thinking about it for a moment, LeBeau nodded. "All right, but be careful!"

"I always am, aren't I, Louis?" Newkirk flashed him a smile, and took off for the stairway. When he got there, he ran down them, two at a time, and once he hit the bottom, he stopped and glanced cautiously back and forth down the hall. Seeing no one, he began to walk quickly and quietly toward the room where he knew Hogan had gone, pulling his gun out to have at the ready. The closer he got to that horrible room marked, '12A', the more anxious he became, and by the time he'd almost reached it, he felt himself starting to panic again. He leaned up against the wall and took some slow, deep breaths, waiting for his heart to stop pounding enough to let him continue.

* * * * * *

Once Hogan was standing up against the far wall, Steiger looked him up and down for a moment, and finally said, "Well, well, Colonel, I must say I like your uniform. I have several just like it, myself."

"My other uniform is at the cleaners," Hogan quipped.

Steiger laughed, and then replied, "It appears that Major Hochstetter was correct about you, after all. I suspected as much."

"You sound like you were expecting me," Hogan said.

"Let's just say I knew you would turn up sooner or later," Steiger informed him.

"Burkhalter's not gonna be too happy if you kill me, you know,"

"Humph! I couldn't care less if General Burkhalter is happy or not! The only reason he didn't release you and Corporal Newkirk to me is because he considers you Luftwaffe property, and he doesn't like to share. Besides, my dear Colonel, you are outside of your camp, and dressed in an SS uniform…I think that makes you a spy, correct?"

Hogan remained silent.

"And I am authorized to interrogate spies," Steiger continued, and then his face suddenly lit up, "Say! You didn't by any chance bring my English corporal with you, did you? Or is he still curled up in your barracks, unable to communicate?"

Hogan's anger was dangerously close to the surface by now, but he held it in check. "Oh, he communicates just fine, Major. In fact, he's told me everything that happened to him while he was here."

"Wonderful!" Steiger exclaimed, smiling with glee, "Then you know all about my game. Now that you're here, we simply _must_ play!" He glanced over at the table, and back at Hogan.

Hogan followed his gaze and blanched a little. "You're mad, you know that?" he uttered, "Completely insane."

"I have an idea," Steiger replied, as if he hadn't heard what Hogan said, "Why don't I chain you to the wall this time, and put Corporal Newkirk on the table? Then you can tell me all about your operation."

Hogan couldn't contain his anger any longer. He glared at Steiger and shouted, "If you lay one hand on him, I'll…"

Just then Newkirk came rushing in, gun in hand, and stopped dead in his tracks right inside the door as his eyes lit on the table, and what was lying on top. As he stood there, staring at it, he could feel himself beginning to panic again; his heart racing, his body breaking out in a cold sweat…his mind swimming, starting to cloud over.

When Steiger saw him, he couldn't have looked more pleased. "Ah, there you are, Corporal Newkirk, we were just talking about you!"

"Newkirk!" Hogan yelled, trying to get his attention, "Newkirk, shoot him! Shoot Steiger!"

"Now Colonel," Steiger admonished him, "If Newkirk shoots me, I'll be forced to shoot you." He raised the gun that he'd been aiming at Hogan the whole time to accentuate his point.

Newkirk looked like he was in a daze. "Wha…what?" He managed to stammer, still staring at the table, while he unconsciously started to lower the gun.

Steiger started to inch closer to Newkirk. "Just give me the gun…I know you won't shoot me…"

Suddenly Newkirk's head jerked up and he noticed the major advancing on him. Then his eyes shifted to Hogan, and the fog instantly lifted from his brain. His arm snapped up and he fired point blank into Steiger's chest. The major's body jerked back at the impact of the bullet, and he looked at Newkirk in complete surprise as the corporal kept firing, unloading the entire round into him. Steiger's body crumpled to the floor and lay there, unmoving, blood slowly spreading out from underneath him. Newkirk kept firing the gun, now getting only a 'click, click, click' from the empty weapon.

Hogan walked over and grabbed Newkirk's hand, gently removing the gun from it. Then he said reassuringly, "It's all right, Newkirk, you can stop now. Steiger's dead."

Newkirk looked at Hogan, confused. "He is?" he responded at last.

Hogan smiled. "Yes, he is. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

The confusion left Newkirk's face, and a determined look took over. "Blimey, Colonel, you don't 'ave to tell _me_ twice!"

They quickly exited the room, but before heading for the stairs, Hogan said, "We better check the rest of the rooms on this floor; see if there's anyone else down here."

"Right, sir," Newkirk answered, and ran down to the end of the hall, opening the doors one by one, while Hogan started from the middle, and did the same. Fortunately, none of the doors were locked, and they were able to check each room quickly. Neither of them saw anyone else, but when Newkirk opened the door to the last room he had to check, he gasped in surprise; it was filled with discarded Russian uniforms. His eyes scanned the pile in horror, knowing in his gut that every one of them belonged to a man that had ended up on Steiger's table. He felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed hard to keep from being sick. As he turned to leave, his attention was drawn to a rather large jacket lying by itself in the corner, as if it had fallen off the pile when tossed in, and had landed there by design, so he would see it. He walked over and reached down to pick it up, and sure enough, it belonged to Yevgenij. Newkirk stared at it for a few moments, and then a resolve swept over him, and he balled it up and stuffed it under his arm, then ran out of the room to meet up with Hogan.

When he caught up to the Colonel, they took off for the stairs and raced up to the floor above, reaching the front entrance in time to see LeBeau and Carter directing the Russian prisoners out of the building. They'd finished freeing them all, and with Lieutenant Sokolov's help, were moving them outside, where the Underground was waiting to get them back to Russia.

LeBeau looked up and saw them, breathing a sigh of relief. He motioned to Carter, who had noticed them about the same time, and as Hogan and Newkirk neared, the colonel reassured them that everything was okay. Then, when the last of the Russian prisoners left the building, Hogan told Carter to take out the incendiary devices that he was carrying in his pockets, and hand them out so they could finish what they'd started. Carter reached in and pulled out a bunch of small objects that looked like pens. He divided them evenly between the other three men, and then they all took off down different hallways, intending to start at the back of the building. As they moved through, they systematically lobbed a 'pen' into every third or fourth cell after setting it, causing the hay to catch fire immediately. When they'd finished, they met up once again at the front entrance, and as the fire started to grow behind them, they left…none of them looking back.

Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter headed across the clearing and reached the edge of the woods. They saw the SS guards tied up on one side, and the Underground leading the Russian prisoners away on the other, and collectively breathed a sigh of relief; the plan had worked. Suddenly the night began to grow brighter, and they turned around and saw the SS facility engulfed in flames. Hogan walked over to stand next to Newkirk and said, "It's over now…Steiger's reign of terror has ended."

Newkirk nodded, and then pulled the bundled up jacket from under his arm. He shook it out, and started to search the pockets.

"What's that you've got there, Newkirk?" Hogan asked, curious.

"Yevgenij's jacket," Newkirk replied. As he reached into another pocket, his hand suddenly found what it was looking for, and it closed around the object, drawing it out carefully.

"Where did you find that?" Hogan was very curious by now.

"In one of the rooms downstairs," Newkirk answered, and then held up the item he'd retrieved from Yevgenij's pocket. It was the photograph of the Russian sergeant's wife and daughter that he had shown Newkirk in the cell some two-odd weeks ago. Newkirk showed it to Hogan and said, "This is Tatiana Ivanov, Yevgenij's wife. And this," he continued with a conviction in his voice that Hogan had never heard before, "Is Anna, his daughter. I'm goin' to Russia after the war, Colonel, and I'm goin' to find them and tell them that Yevgenij died a hero."

Hogan looked at Newkirk, completely overwhelmed. He threw his arm around Newkirk's shoulders and nodded, finding himself speechless. At last he replied, "If you need me, Peter, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Newkirk turned his head to look at him, and even though there was a profound sadness in his eyes, he smiled and said quietly, "Thanks, Rob."

Hogan smiled back and gave Newkirk's shoulder a pat, and then told him, "C'mon, let's go home." They turned and, after joining up with LeBeau and Carter, headed back to Stalag 13 to face another day of doing what they did best; rescuing Allied military men, harassing the Germans, and conducting sabotage whenever possible in their fight to help win the war, and bring down the tyranny of the Nazis forever.

* * * * * *

THE END


End file.
